They Meet
by Brown Eyes Parker
Summary: How Patrick Jane meets and falls in love with Teresa Lisbon, catches a bad guy and decides to become a retired detective, living in a sleepy coastal town . Extreme AU. Rated T. Cover image by justlooking3.
1. They Meet

**They Meet**

**A Jane & Lisbon Story**

**By Brown Eyes Parker**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 1**

"I know her," Sam Bosco said. "I could introduce you instead of your standing here, staring at her all night."

Patrick Jane frowned at the man he was often partnered with during investigations. "I was _not _staring at her!"

Bosco snorted. "I know I may not be as observant as you are Jane, but I can tell when a man finds a woman attractive. And you, my friend, find Teresa Lisbon completely attractive. I bet you're trying to figure out how to meet her right now. I can spare you the process and introduce you."

"Actually, I was thinking about how she must have been unprepared for tonight. Her dress is a size too big, she's clutching the top like she's afraid that it'll fall down any second. And she keeps looking at the door, like she's waiting to make an escape as soon as this thing is over and as fast as she can go in high heels."

Bosco rolled his eyes. "Now that you've read her in the same efficient manner that you use with everybody else you come in contact with, I'll introduce you. Come on Jane, it's been a year since you got divorced. You need to move on with your life."

"It still feels too soon."

"Come on, this woman might change your life forever and you won't know it unless you meet her properly."

"How do you know her again?" Patrick asked.

"I sort of dated her before I met Mandee," Bosco answered offhandedly.

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "_Sort of?_ Do you still have feelings for her?"

"Oh no, you are _not _going to read me! Not again!" Bosco replied. "I am happy with Mandee; I don't have any remaining attraction for Teresa. It's all in the past, where it belongs. But I think she might be good for you. I'm just asking for you to meet her, not marry her. You don't even have to ask her out. You only need to know her name, that's all."

Patrick sighed. "Fine. I'll meet her but only because I know you won't stop nagging me if I don't go and meet her."

Bosco smiled triumphantly. "Come with me."

"She's talking to Hightower; don't you think it can wait until she's free?"

"I am sure that Hightower won't mind the interruption," Bosco told him. "Especially if it means you'll have a life outside of work."

"I have a life outside of work," Patrick said.

"I'm sure there's somebody out there who'd be impressed by all the books you've read, but I'm talking about a life outside of the library too. You know, like the kind normal members of the human race have."

Patrick rolled his eyes but allowed Bosco to lead him towards Madeleine Hightower and their hostess for the evening without commenting any further. It was fruitless to argue with the man anyways, both of them were stubborn and didn't easily relinquish their stand on things.

When they were standing about a foot away, Hightower exchanged a knowing smile with Bosco before making her excuses to Teresa Lisbon and going off to find her husband.

The petite brunette smiled at Bosco. "Good evening Sam," she said.

"Good evening Teresa," he replied. "I was wondering if you would allow me the pleasure of introducing you to my partner and sometimes friend, Patrick Jane."

"Of course you may," she answered, turning her cherry-lipped smile at him.

Bosco smiled too. "Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon. Teresa Lisbon, this is Patrick Jane."

"Hello Mr. Jane," Teresa said, holding out her hand towards him. "It's very nice to meet you."

Patrick nodded and cleared his throat, receiving the offered hand. "The pleasure is all mine."

There was a long moment of awkward silence and then Bosco cleared his own throat. "I believe I'll go and find Mandee. Jane, why don't you ask Teresa to dance? Her father is the one who made tonight possible, the least one of us could do is ask her to dance once."

"Sam!" Teresa said as he disappeared. She turned to Patrick and shook her head. "Really, you don't have to ask me to dance. I am perfectly content to just stand here and watch."

"I guess it lessens the chances of your dress falling down too," Patrick answered.

Teresa looked scandalized. "Excuse me?"

"The way you're holding it to your chest, it is so obvious that it doesn't fit you properly. You bought it quickly, like you found out last minute that you were coming tonight."

"My father doesn't like to be around lots of people," Teresa told him. "I usually come in his place."

"Recovering alcoholic?" Patrick guessed.

"Not that it's any of your business Mr. Jane but my father has been sober for ten years now. But yes, being around people who drink makes him uncomfortable. He says he'll go to an event but he always backs out at the last minute," Teresa answered defensively. "If it means that he'll stay sober, I would prefer to make last minute dress purchases and go in his place. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Why should I? You're a devoted daughter and that is admirable. Lots of girls in your situation would be very self-involved."

Teresa raised her eyebrow. "In my situation?"

"You don't hold the air of somebody who's had a considerable amount of money for years. I figure that you're fairly new to the millionaire status."

"I've heard about you and how you're good at reading people," Teresa said. "It's why the CBI has the highest closed case rate over any organization in California right now."

"I do okay," Patrick answered modestly.

"Then may I make a suggestion?" Teresa asked. "And I do mean kindly, of course."

"Of course."

"Stick to your job and don't read me anymore."

"Or else?" Patrick asked.

"Or else nothing," Teresa replied. "I just don't want somebody that I don't even know dissecting my life."

"But you have an unfair disadvantage. You already know a lot about me, you read about it in the papers or in the tabloids. And I know Sam and Mandee Bosco must have already discussed me with you at great length on top of it all. I could tell from the way you agreed to meet me when he first brought me over to introduce us."

"I know a few things," Teresa admitted. "Like two years ago you were one of the United States most renowned psychics. You did readings for Regis & Kathie Lee, for the president's wife. You won _People's Sexiest Man of the Year_. And then one day, there was a tragedy. Your daughter died. _The Enquirer_ said she had been hit by a car. Everybody else said she had drowned in the ocean near your Malibu beach house. Your wife eventually left you and then your fame disappeared quickly after she did."

"Those are the facts," Patrick answered, not allowing her to see how she had affected him. "But not the complete truth. The magazines always victimize the wives and villainies the husband. Have you noticed that?"

"So, you weren't the villain in the story?"

"Did Bosco say that I was?"

"He told me that it wasn't any of his business to tell your story."

Patrick sighed; he couldn't believe he was going to air his laundry for somebody he didn't even know. But there was something about her that said he could trust her completely; maybe it was the way she looked vulnerable clutching an emerald green dress to her chest or her big eyes that had kindness in the depths of them.

"There weren't any villains or victims in this story," he told her. "Angela and I lost our daughter, she drowned one day. Her nanny had taken too much Nyquil or something like that; I forget what excuse she used. But she'd fallen asleep and back door was open. Charlotte wandered outside, maybe she wanted to build a sandcastle or play in the waves. We'll never know. When the nanny woke up, Charlotte was gone. . . her body was. . ."

He looked at her and saw the stricken look on her face, mixed in with sympathy and a desire to cry for somebody she didn't even know. It gave him the drive to go on, to tell her the truth that only his ex-wife and their lawyers knew.

He drew a breath before continuing. "Her body washed up three hours away from our home, she never stood a chance. She didn't know how to swim, didn't know how dangerous the ocean really was. We reminded her that she shouldn't go near the water without us, but you know little kids won't always remember the rules when they really want to do something."

"And then what happened?" Teresa asked. "After they found her?"

"We buried our daughter, of course. And then that's when things got really bad. Angela wanted to play the blame game. She blamed the nanny for not calling in sick, she blamed me for having a meeting that day, and she blamed herself for going to the spa with her friends instead of staying home with Charlotte. When she was done blaming people, she got depressed. Most days, she couldn't get out of bed. I had to be strong enough for the both of us. And that was hard. That was really hard. Then one day, a year and two days after we had lost her, I suggested we try and move on with our lives. Maybe have another baby.

"But she thought I was trying to replace Charlotte. And she never wanted to replace Charlotte, so I suggested couples counseling. When she rejected that idea, I realized we had drifted apart. A week later, she filed for divorce. I didn't cheat on her, I didn't do drugs or get drunk or hurt her. If I did anything wrong, I was blind to how unhappy she really was. And when she asked for a divorce, I gave it to her because I didn't want her to be unhappy anymore."

"And your career as a psychic ended," Teresa said.

"I never really believed in what I was doing," Patrick answered. "I only did it because it was the thing I was used to from my childhood and because there was good money in it. I always wanted my kids to have the kind of life I never did. I didn't want them to grow up in a trailer, to fall asleep in Atlanta and wake up in Atlantic City."

"And how did you end up with the CBI?" Teresa asked.

Patrick shrugged. "I met Virgil Minelli at an event once, he was impressed with me. Told me if I ever decided to quit being a psychic and go straight, there would be a job for me at the CBI. They could use somebody with my skills. After I got divorced and quit being a charlatan, I needed something to do with my life. So, I looked him up and asked him if he still needed my help. He did, so he hired me on the spot. The rest as they say is history."

"And now Madeleine Hightower is the boss," Teresa said.

"Yes," Patrick answered. "Minelli met somebody and decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. We keep in touch; he wants to make sure I'm behaving myself for the new boss. To make sure I'm still stable."

"Are you?"

Patrick didn't know if she was asking if he was behaving himself or if he was still stable. So he nodded. "Yes, yes I think I am. What about you though? What's your story?"

"Don't you already know?" Teresa asked as the orchestra started to play the last song.

"They're only educated guesses."

She shook her head. "If I tell you right now then there might not be a guarantee that we'll see each other again. As friends."

"Sure."

"The party's almost over, I think I'm going to slip away now," Teresa whispered. "I'll be in touch soon."

Patrick watched her disappear, completely intrigued by the woman who had listened to him for a few minutes without judgments. She was the first person he had been able to completely open up to in three years, she had been even easier to talk to then the therapist the lawyer handling his divorce had insisted that he go and see.

After he waited a while, giving her time to get a head start on him so she wouldn't think he was following her, he left too and went home to his lonely apartment.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**This is a prequel to Nick & Nora, but you don't have to read that to understand what is going on here. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and that you'll tell me what you think! I think this is going to be fairly long, so prepare yourselves! **

**Until Next Time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 1/2/2015_**


	2. Getting To Know You

**Shout-Outs: Guest, lili87, Sssssy, Wolfhound159, Guest, I Don't Have a Name, and Jane Doe51**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 2**

Patrick didn't expect to see Teresa so soon after the ball, so when lunchtime came around the next day he was surprised to see her step off the elevator and look around the bullpen for him. She smiled when she saw him lying on the worn leather couch and came over to him, her heeled boots clicking on the wooden floor.

He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. "Hello," he said.

"Hello Mr. Jane," Teresa answered, smoothing invisible wrinkles out of her wide-legged white pants.

"Please, there is _no _need to call me Mr. Jane. It's Patrick," he said.

She blushed. "Hello _Patrick_," she answered experimentally.

"Hello, Teresa. May I call you Teresa?"

"Of course!" Teresa answered, adjusting her purse and clearing her throat. "I was wondering if you had plans for lunch this afternoon."

Patrick shook his head. "Nope, I don't think I have lunch plans this afternoon."

"Not even a tuna sandwich?" Teresa double-checked.

"I hardly ever bring a bagged lunch," Patrick replied.

"Hmmm, okay. So, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch with me since you don't have any plans."

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Teresa, are you asking me out on a date?"

"Hardly!" She scoffed. "I was thinking we could finish our discussion and that maybe we could be friends."

"Oh," Patrick said, relieved that he wouldn't have to turn her down and give her a speech about how he wasn't ready for a romantic relationship yet. "That would be nice."

"Lunch is on me," Teresa told him.

"Fine, but the next time we have lunch then you're going to have to allow me to pay. It's only fair."

Teresa smiled. "Sounds like a plan," she agreed.

Madeleine Hightower came out of her office carrying a microwavable can of tomato soup and smiled. "Oh, hello Miss Lisbon. What brings you here on this beautiful afternoon?"

"I just dropped in to see if Patrick wanted to join me for lunch," Teresa answered. "Your consultant is very intriguing to me and I wanted a chance to talk to him some more."

Hightower's face brightened even more. "By all means, take him to lunch. Take your time; we'll call you if anything comes up Jane."

Teresa was the one to raise an eyebrow as Patrick's boss disappeared into the kitchen. "What was that all about?" she asked.

"_Nothing!"_ Patrick answered turning and steering her towards the elevators. "How about we go and get some lunch now? I'm _starving_!"

She drove them to a little bistro that served burgers and fries in downtown Sacramento, a favorite of the Serious Crimes Unit. Patrick wondered if she knew that but then remembered she hadn't always been wealthy and that her tastes probably still ran in the vein of the simpler things in life.

They got a table outside and ordered cheeseburgers with extra French fries. She was chugging a Coke when she finally got to more serious topics.

"So, since you told me your story then I guess it's only fair that I tell you mine," Teresa said, putting her glass down and swallowing.

"I didn't tell you everything though," Patrick told her. "I only told you what's happened in the past three years."

"Well, there's plenty of time to tell me the rest of your story. But today is my turn, fair is fair, I guess." Teresa took another long slug of Coke and then cleared her throat. "Okay, so as you rightly guessed we didn't always have a lot of money when I was younger. My father was from a poor Portuguese family, my mother from a poor Irish one. He was a firefighter and mom was a homemaker. I was whatever I wanted to be, which was a firefighter, princess, homemaker hybrid most days. Mom had more kids, three boys and we were the family everybody envied. Then tragedy happened, because tragedy always happens doesn't it?"

"It seems like it, yes," Patrick answered.

"You probably know what happened," Teresa said.

"Well, nobody has mentioned your mother since we've met. I'm assuming she died tragically, right?"

Teresa nodded. "Yeah, she was killed by a drunk driver when I was twelve. My father was devastated, he turned to alcohol for solace and we almost lost him. I did my best to take care of him and my brothers, but I was just a kid. I could barely take care of myself. And then one day, my father woke up in the hospital recovering from alcohol poisoning. He got sober but my brothers didn't want anything to do with him at that point. I was all he had on the long road to recovery. I balanced his AA meetings and my schooling."

"Let me guess, you followed your father's footsteps and went into law enforcement?" Patrick asked.

"It's a family tradition. Every Lisbon is in some sort of law enforcement," Teresa answered. "I was in the police academy when my father got the call about the inheritance. A family member he didn't even know he had left him all his money and his estate in Lisbon, ironically. He didn't want his thieving ex-wife or his children to have a dime. He did a lot of research to find my father and leave the money to him in his will."

"How were they related?" Patrick asked as the waiter delivered their lunches.

"Cousins. Apparently my father's dad had a following out with his father and they never spoke again," Teresa replied, taking a French fry and putting it in her mouth. She chewed for a second and then swallowed. "So, he inherited all the money. five hundred million dollars, apparently he was a miser. All he did was hoard money; he never spent it at all."

"And then what happened?"

"I quit the academy to help my father with the money and then we moved here. Away from the memories, away from the temptation. A fresh start. And now I lead the life of a lady of leisure. My dad is smart with money, so he invested most of it. But like I said, he doesn't do well with being around functions that have alcohol. He faces the same old temptations every time, so he sends me instead."

"Do you miss the police academy? Or Chicago?" Patrick asked.

Teresa shrugged and took a drink. "I don't think I miss Chicago that much. Except for the pizza and the Cubs games."

"What about the work?"

"I think I would have liked being a detective, but how do you miss something you never really got a chance to do?" Teresa asked. "It isn't like I'm sitting around the house all day, working on needlepoint and waiting for a rich young man to marry me so we can join our fortunes together and be incredibly wealthy."

"So, what does a wealthy young woman like you do with herself most days?"

Teresa shook her head and bit into her burger. "We'll save that for another day. We don't want to run out of things to talk about before we even have a chance to become friends."

"Well, can I at least ask how old you are?" Patrick asked.

"I'm twenty-eight," Teresa answered. "How old are you?"

"Thirty."

"You're younger than I thought."

Patrick laughed. "Well, you're younger than _I _thought you'd be. I would have never guessed you were twenty-eight."

"Because I don't look like it?" Teresa asked.

"No, you look younger than twenty-eight. But you carry yourself like you're older than that."

"I see," Teresa said biting her lip. "You're almost as good a listener as you are a talker."

"In my line of work, you have to be good at both."

"And what line of work is that?" Teresa asked. "Fake psychic or CBI consultant."

"Both."

They finished lunch and Teresa paid the bill, she played _Coldplay_ on the way back to the office and hummed along to _Yellow _while they made small talk about what they liked to drink and eat.

And Patrick was amazed at how easy it was to be with her. He hadn't felt this easy with someone since Angela.

Yes, he liked Bosco, Hightower and the rest of the Serious Crime Unit well enough, but being around them was nothing like being around him. She saw him as a potential friend, not somebody with a tragic history or as somebody who could advance their career because of his record of closing cases.

She dropped him off at the front of the building and smiled at him. "I'll see you again soon, I hope."

"Well, I do owe you lunch," Patrick answered.

Teresa smiled. "Well, maybe I should give you my number. It might make this being friends thing a lot easier."

"Yes, having your number would be very helpful," Patrick agreed.

She jotted it down on the back of a receipt for a coffee purchase and handed it over. "Okay, I'll see you later."

"Goodbye Teresa," Patrick answered, waving to her as she drove away.

**.**

"I'm guessing lunch was successful," Bosco said as Patrick entered the bullpen.

"It was fine," Patrick answered.

Bosco took a long sip of his coffee and then a bite of his powdered doughnut. "It was just _fine_?"

"It was fine," Patrick repeated, going into the break room to make a cup of tea. "We were just two people finishing a conversation."

"Right."

"I am _not _dating her!"

"You're the one who said you were dating her! Not me!" Bosco said, smirking at him.

"I can hear your thoughts as clear as day," Patrick answered. "And you're thinking that we're dating. Well, we're not."

"Maybe, but you are going to be dating her eventually. Mark my words; she isn't the kind of woman you're just friends with."

"Then why didn't you marry her?" Patrick challenged.

"First of all, she's almost twelve years younger than me. Second of all, Mandee is a better fit for me than she would have ever been," Bosco replied. "But that doesn't mean you're not good for her. Besides, you've probably seen _When Harry Met Sally_. Somebody always wants to be something more. . ."

"I am _not _having this conversation with you," Patrick told him.

Bosco sighed. "Fine. But. . ."

"No! No more!" Patrick stopped him.

Bosco smirked again and took a drink of his coffee to stop him from saying anything else. But he couldn't resist. "Are you going to see her again?"

"To finish a conversation," Patrick answered. "Stop being a busybody, Bosco."

"What are you talking about?" Wayne Rigsby, one of his other teammates asked as he came into the bullpen looking for an after-lunch snack. "Why does Jane want you to mind your own business?"

Patrick rolled his eyes.

"He met somebody!" Bosco replied as he took a chocolate éclair.

Rigsby smiled. "Really? Good for you Jane! _Finally!_"

"We're just friends," Patrick answered like he had to spell it out for him.

"But you _did_ meet somebody?" Rigsby asked.

"Sure," Patrick replied. "I met somebody, somebody who is just a _friend_. And we're hardly even friends because she's somebody I just met."

"So, when did you guys meet?"

"Last night at the ball," Bosco answered. "Her father was the one who donated all the money to the CBI. _I _introduced them."

Patrick walked away, leaving them to their idle gossip. There was no sense in trying to tell them that nothing was going on between him and Teresa Lisbon, he had tried and failed too many times already. He would just allow time to show them the truth of what was really going on.

Besides, he might have been the smartest person in the building but he didn't know why everybody had an intense need to see him matched up with somebody new. He wasn't that pathetic that he needed a lady in his life. In the life that he had.

He crawled on his couch and pretended to sleep so nobody would bother him until they actually needed his services.

**.**

"Where were you this afternoon, dear?" Carlos Lisbon asked his daughter as she came into his penthouse apartment and tossed her car keys on the table by the door. "I thought we were going to have lunch."

"I know dad and I'm sorry I didn't make it. . . but I was having lunch with somebody else," Teresa answered, grinning at him.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Really? A girlfriend?"

"No. . ." Teresa answered.

"A boyfriend then?" Carlos asked hopefully.

"He's a guy. . . who could be a friend," she replied, sitting down on the couch and taking his hand.

"It's better than nothing, I suppose. You always seem so lonely with only me for company."

"I'm not lonely! Not really," Teresa answered. "You're my number one priority. You know that."

"And I am grateful for it," Carlos said. "You know that I am. I don't know what I would do without you my dear. But don't you want a life outside of taking care of me and looking over the finances?"

"Oh dad. . . if it hadn't been for the inheritance, you know what I would be doing right now."

"Yes, something else. You'd probably be the youngest lead agent at the CBI right now."

Teresa blushed. "You don't know that. You have a very high opinion of me."

"You were at the top of your class before you left the academy. Any agency would have been lucky to have somebody like you working for them."

She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

"Now tell me about this fellow you had lunch with," Carlos said. "Is he nice? Where did you meet him? What's his name?"

"His name is Patrick Jane," Teresa started.

"Patrick Jane, he's that psychic from Regis & Kathie Lee, right?"

Teresa's mouth twisted into a smile. "Yes, he was on the Regis & Kathie Lee Show. I met him at the party last night."

"Was he the entertainment? Wait a second; he doesn't do psychic stuff anymore. I heard that on ET. So, what is he doing at the CBI?"

"Helping out with the casework. I met him through Bosco. And we talked; I liked talking to him so I went and finished a conversation with him. Except we didn't really finish it, I left it off for the next time."

Carlos smiled and took his daughter's hand. "I have tickets for the opera. You should invite him to go; I'm not going to use them anyways."

"You need to get out sometimes too," Teresa answered.

"I'll do it another time," Carlos replied. "I promise."

"You better," Teresa told him warningly. "Come on, I'll make you dinner and then we can watch a movie."

"As long as you take the tickets," Carlos said.

"Okay," Teresa answered. "I'll take the tickets. Even though I don't like the opera. At all."

"Have you ever been to the opera? No! You might be surprised. You might love it," Carlos answered. "Your mother, God rest her soul, _loved_ the opera. And you are her daughter in more ways than one."

Teresa smiled. "Okay. I'll give it a chance."

"And dear, do _not_ go and pick a dress off the rack even though the opera is tomorrow night. Try and find something that will fit. Please."

"Dad. . ."

"I know, I know. It isn't a date but my dear; you don't know what can happen."

"Okay, okay. I'll try and pick something that fits."

"And _nothing _that is discounted either. You already met him, but you don't have to stop making impressions."

"Okay, okay!" Teresa repeated as they went into the kitchen to start making dinner again.

She wasn't going to tell him that Patrick wasn't looking for anything else aside from friendship. He wouldn't listen to her anyways.

**TBC. . .**

**.  
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**Author's Note:**

**I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. And if you don't know who Nick & Nora are, I **_**highly **_**recommend the Thin Man series with William Powell and Myrna Loy. They are brilliant and Robin Tunney's choice for chemistry that reminds her of Jane and Lisbon. Also, a huge thank you to justlook3 for the cover art. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 1/9/2015_  
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	3. The Opera

**Shout-Outs: Sssssy, WillySpooky, Milka, Jane Doe51, Guest and LouiseKurylo**

**Author's Note:**

**I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. Yesterday was completely hectic and I didn't get a chance to put it up before I had to leave for the evening.**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 3**

"Your girlfriend's in the bullpen," Rigsby said to Patrick the next day.

Patrick dunked his teabag and rolled his eyes. "She is not my girlfriend!"

"Okay! Your friend who is a girl is in the bullpen," Rigsby corrected himself.

"Did she say what she wanted?"

"Nope. She just said she wanted to see you," Rigsby answered.

"Okay, I'm coming," Patrick said, following him out into the bullpen.

Teresa was standing by the elevators and shifting from foot-to-foot while Grace Van Pelt chatted with her. She smiled when she saw him coming and Van Pelt murmured something about going to finish filing a report.

"Hello Teresa," Patrick said. "What have I done for the pleasure of your presence today?"

"I was just stopping in on my way to go shopping," Teresa answered. "Mostly because I have a favor to ask."

"Okay. . ."

"My father gave me tickets to the opera tonight and I was wondering if it was too soon in the friendship to ask you to accompany me."

"It depends," Patrick answered, taking a sip of tea. "What opera is it?"

"I think it was Tortandot."

"_Turandot?" _Patrick corrected with amusement.

"Yes!" Teresa replied. "That's exactly it! I know it's kind of a weird request, but I've never been to the opera and you seem like the kind of person who's been to the opera before. So, I thought it would be nice to go for the first time with somebody who's already experienced it."

Patrick looked across the room and saw Bosco staring at them with interest. He took another sip of tea and nodded before answering. "You're in luck; I haven't sent my tuxedo to the dry cleaner's yet."

"Does that mean you'll go with me then?" Teresa asked hopefully.

"Yes," Patrick answered. "When does the opera start?"

"Eight."

"I'll see you at seven-thirty then," Patrick answered.

Teresa beamed. "Until seven-thirty then. Now if you'd excuse me, I have to go and find a dress."

Patrick laughed at her obviousness as she got back onto the elevator and pressed the lobby button. He had to admit that she was one of the most adorable creatures that he had _ever _met.

**.**

She was waiting for him at the theater, she was clad in a little black dress that actually fit her and a chunky pearl necklace he was almost certain that the salesgirl had talked her into buying along with the black pumps. Her dark hair had been pulled away from her face _a la _Audrey Hepburn in _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ and she was wearing a bold shade of red lipstick.

"Hello Teresa," he said as he approached her.

"Hello Patrick," she answered, smiling at him. "How are you this evening?"

"Fine," Patrick replied. "You're looking well tonight."

"You don't look so bad yourself," Teresa said, offering him her arm. "Shall we go in?"

He took her arm. "Why not?"

They showed their tickets and were directed to the balcony where they got programs and settled in, listening to the orchestra tune up their instruments as Patrick told her the general storyline of _Turandot _because he'd seen it before. Before they knew it, the lights were being dimmed and the opera was beginning.

By the time the intermission rolled around, Teresa didn't want to move, she was so entranced by the story unfolding in front of her. But Patrick was steering her out and saying something about a glass of wine while they waited for the next act to begin.

He got them each a glass of sparkling Moscato and they found a quiet corner to sit in while they waited when a woman in a low-cut purple dress that left little to the imagination in way of her augmented breasts intercepted them.

"Patrick Jane! I thought that was you!" She gushed in a southern accent. "I told Charlie as soon as I saw you come into the theater that it was you. But he didn't believe me; it's been so long since we've seen you out at events like this. You haven't been to the theater since before Charlotte died, isn't that right? Everybody's been wondering how you've been, but you've dropped off the face of the earth. I had lunch with Angela yesterday and even she couldn't tell me where you were. . ."

Teresa didn't think she was going to stop and draw a breath, but she did and turned her attentions on her.

She smiled at Patrick's old friend and swirled her wine around the glass, her stomach knotting under her scrutiny.

She raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow and frowned. "And who is _this_?"

Patrick sighed. "Scarlett, this is Teresa Lisbon. Teresa Lisbon, this is Scarlett Fenton. Angela and I were friends with her and her husband Charlie a very long time ago."

"It was only _three _years ago!" Scarlett snapped, obviously put out by his snub. "Who is _she_? Are you dating her?"

Teresa shook her head. "Not that this is _any _of _your _business but we're not dating. No, we're just friends."

"Not that it matters anyways," Patrick interjected. "Did you forget that Angela was the one who wanted to divorce _me_, Scarlett? Or has she told you a different version of events? I don't think she has, I think she's kept the whole thing pretty much to herself and you're drawing your own conclusions. Come on Teresa, let's go somewhere else."

He took her wrist and dragged her away, leaving Scarlett to stare after them, her mouth hanging open as they disappeared.

"Do you really think you should treat your friend like that?" Teresa asked.

"That _busybody _is _not _my friend!" Patrick spat out in disgust. "She never really has been. She was always friends with Angela. I never really cared for her though."

"Oh. . ." Teresa trailed off. "I am sorry. . ."

"Don't be! You didn't know. . . I didn't know, although maybe I should have. Scarlett and Charlie are always looking to be in the society section of the newspaper. Wait, let me take that back, _Scarlett _is always looking to be in the society section. Charlie, the poor man, is just spineless and goes along with whatever is wife says."

"Oh. . ."

A bell dinged, signaling the end of the intermission. Patrick took Teresa's wineglass, still full and brought it the counter before coming back and escorting her back to their seats.

The lights went down but this time instead of getting lost in the beauty of the music and the passion of the performers, all she could think about was their run-in with Patrick's friends from his old life and his reaction to it. She stole a glance at him in the dim stage lights, his concentration was gone too. She wanted to suggest that they leave but she couldn't form the words.

As the opera progressed, a sick feeling grew in the pit of her stomach and she was certain that she had lost a friend even before the friendship had gotten a chance to progress. And then it was all over, they applauded with the crowd even though she knew neither of them had been fully engaged in the rest of the show.

"Are you hungry?" Patrick asked as they left the theater with the throngs of opera-goers and exited out into the balmy June evening.

Teresa looked at him in surprise and then nodded. "I could eat."

"I know a place that serves the best ice cream," Patrick said. "Why don't you follow me over and I'll treat you to a sundae?"

"Really?"

"Yes. I know you've been worried all night, but I don't blame you. You didn't know about Scarlett. It wasn't your fault, I'm only sorry that your night was ruined. We'll have to come to the opera again sometime."

Teresa smiled at him and nodded. "Okay."

**.**

The next day, Teresa was working on the community garden she had planted in her apartment complex when a tall, skinny, elegantly-dressed woman approached her.

"Excuse me, are you Teresa Lisbon?" She asked.

Teresa looked up, suddenly feeling self-conscious in her faded jeans, white spaghetti strap tank top, old Chucks and the red bandana that was keeping her hair from getting in her face. Because she knew from all the tabloids that the woman standing in front of her was Angela Ruskins Jane.

She stood up and wiped her grimy hands off on her jeans. "I am you must be Angela."

Angela nodded. "Yes."

Teresa shifted uncomfortably and then smiled. "I was just about to take a break. Would you like to join me for some iced coffee?"

"Oh. . . I don't know," Angela answered. "I don't make it a habit to sit down and be friendly with my ex-husband's new girlfriends."

Teresa exhaled, she knew Scarlett had called Angela and told her all about running into them at the opera. She closed her eyes and counted to ten.

"Has Patrick had a lot of girlfriends?" Teresa asked after a beat.

Angela shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? I haven't talked to him since we finalized our divorce. I mean, you're the first girl I've heard about him being with. . . ever. Scarlett said. . . and I just wanted to see for myself."

Teresa looked Angela over again and zoned in on the Harry-Winston engagement ring on her left finger. She cleared her throat, using the piece of jewelry to her advantage. "If you're seeing somebody new, why does it matter if Patrick is?"

Angela bristled. "I didn't say it was," she answered icily.

Teresa smiled, making sure it was friendly. "Why don't you come in and have a glass of iced coffee? It's a lot cooler inside and a lot more comfortable for a chat. I am assuming you came to chat, or did you just come to see what I'm assuming your friend said was your replacement?"

"Scarlett. . ."

"I am sure all of your fears have been taken care of Mrs. Jane," Teresa continued. "As you can see, I am not half as pretty as you are. And I'm just his friend, your husband still isn't over you or what he lost when your daughter died and you divorced him."

"He isn't my husband anymore," Angela answered. "We've been divorced for a year,

I'm engaged to somebody else."

"Then why are you here?" Teresa asked. "You obviously don't want him back. And I am sure you didn't come all this way to wish us well or to warn me not to hurt him."

Angela was silent.

"You wanted to make sure you were the best he ever had. Well, let me assure you, you probably were because he isn't interested."

"So, you offered then?" Angela asked.

"The only thing I've offered Patrick is my friendship. I have money, I don't need his. And I am perfectly content to live out of the spotlight."

Angela snorted. "He already has a spotlight on him anymore. Not since he started working for that California Bureau of Investigation."

"And it's fine with me. I've never really cared much for fame, the fortune I cannot escape though. Now since you don't have a good reason for this visit, I would like to go now."

She walked away and tripped over her feet, realizing that her pulse had picked up and she was seeing stars. She collapsed on the steps leading into her apartment and took a deep breath to steady herself. She sat there until mosquitos started to bite her and her older neighbor Mrs. Smith came out to see if she was okay.

When she didn't answer, Mrs. Smith helped her to her feet and brought her to her apartment.

_Perry Como _was playing on the record player and it smelled like _Chanel No. 5_ and fresh chocolate chip cookies. A jack Russell terrier was napping on the couch and all the windows were open.

"Martha!" Mrs. Smith called as she ushered Teresa into a chair. "Martha, darling, will you please come here for a moment!?"

Martha, the housemaid apparently, came out from the kitchen with a mop in her hand. "Yes, Mrs. Smith?"

"Will you please go get the calamine lotion for Miss Lisbon here? She is _covered_ in mosquito bites. And after that, go ahead and make her a glass of chocolate milk. I think she has had a shock, she could use some sugar."

"Of course Mrs. Smith, I'll be right back Miss Lisbon," Martha answered.

A few minutes later, Martha came out with a tray that had chocolate chip cookies, chocolate milk, bowlful of cotton balls and a bottle of calamine lotion on it.

"Thank you Martha, I'll handle it from here," Mrs. Smith said, taking the tray from her maid and putting it on the coffee table. "Here darling, drink this."

Teresa took the glass from her and took a sip, she felt like she was too old to drink chocolate milk, but in that moment it was exactly what the doctor ordered and as she gulped it, she felt a little bit like herself again.

In fact, with Mrs. Smith fussing over her and the Perry Como record playing; it was almost like being back at her grandparents' house when she was a little girl. She scratched a mosquito bite and put her empty glass down.

"Martha!" Mrs. Smith called again.

It was like Martha was anticipating what she would ask for; she appeared with a fresh glass of chocolate milk and took the empty one away.

Teresa released a deep breath and looked at Mrs. Smith, who had taken a seat next to her and was dabbing pink lotion on the raised bites.

"What happened darling?" Mrs. Smith asked when she was sure that the young girl could talk again.

"I don't know," Teresa answered. "I was working in the vegetable garden when his ex-wife showed up. And all she wanted to do was scrutinize me. . . to see if I was better than her or something like that. I don't know."

"Whose ex-wife came dear?" Mrs. Smith asked.

"Patrick's," Teresa replied, taking another sip of chocolate milk and reaching for a cookie.

Mrs. Smith looked interested. "Oh? Is Patrick your boyfriend?"

Teresa laughed. "No. Patrick is just. . . he's somebody met three days ago and I think we're just going to be friends."

"Oh, I see. You are a brave girl, aren't you?"

"Am I?" Teresa asked. "Would a brave girl react like this after standing up to somebody?"

"I think it would depend on the situation," Mrs. Smith answered.

"She doesn't even want him anymore," Teresa told her, shocked that she was opening up so easily to the woman sitting next to her but the words were pouring out and she couldn't stop them. "She's engaged to somebody new, you see. And now I'm not even sure why she came. I thought it was because she wanted to see if I was. . . as pretty as her."

Mrs. Smith dropped the used cotton ball onto the tray. "Well, are you?"

Teresa shook her head. "No."

"I honestly do _not_ believe that for a second!" Mrs. Smith said, capping the calamine lotion and patting her knee, inspite of the dirt that was creeping up on the denim. "Now, go and get cleaned up then call your young man and forget that you saw her today."

"He isn't my young man," Teresa told her as she got to her feet and Mrs. Smith ushered her out of the door.

Mrs. Smith smiled. "Come back and see me again. Myrna Loy is going to have her puppies soon, you can have your pick of the litter, if you'd like."

"Okay," Teresa agreed. "Thank you for helping me out.

"No problem darling," Mrs. Smith answered. "Don't be a stranger. In fact, we should all have dinner really soon."

Then she shut the door and left Teresa all alone.

**.**

Teresa went to her apartment and changed out of her gardening clothes; she got into the shower and tried not to think about the last twenty-four hours. But it stayed in her head, playing on an endless loop. Angela and Scarlett's faces seemed to be etched in her brain.

She got out of the shower and dressed in a sundress with sunflowers splashed on it. She slipped into sandals and braided her hair; fully intent on going to the CBI to see Patrick and tell him that maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to continue on towards friendship.

She was locking her apartment door when a hand on her shoulder startled her; she whirled around and saw Patrick looking at her with confusion.

"Patrick. . . how. . ."

"I looked up your address in the Yellow Pages," he answered. "Could we go for a walk? I need somebody to talk to."

Teresa nodded. "Um, sure. There's a park across the street. We can take a walk there."

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note II:**

**I hope you enjoyed this installment of They Meet. I've had general plot of this chapter planned for almost two years now. Some things changed, like Mrs. Smith. She wasn't a character at all up until a few days before I wrote it. Anyways, please tell me what you think. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 1/17/2015_**


	4. A Part of You is Missing

**Shout-outs: NANNETTE, Sssssy, WillySpooky, Jane Doe51, , breath-of-spring, DaboGirl, Charlotte Green, blueyedmentalistfan and LouiseKurylo for their reviews on chapter 3**

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry for another delay in posting, I have the chapters. Yesterday I was held hostage in my brother's bedroom for seven hours while my sisters put together a surprise party/dinner for me. I'm 25 as of Thursday. And it had been a while since I had a birthday party that is my excuse for the late update.**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 4**

He was silent until they reached the park; Teresa clutched her keys wondering if maybe he was going to tell her the same thing that she was thinking. But he couldn't have known that Angela had paid a visit to her that afternoon, and he had already told her he didn't blame her for Scarlett.

"I saw Angela today," he said abruptly.

Teresa stopped dead in her tracks, her pulse started to race again. "Oh?"

"Yeah. She came to tell me that she was engaged, it'll be in Sunday's paper, of course. But she wanted me to know in person." Patrick ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I should have seen it coming. But a part of me always hoped that she would come back to me."

Teresa nodded. "I know," she said quietly.

"But she told me I was _silly_ for hoping things would work out between us. Especially because it didn't work out the first time for us. . . I don't even know why she came to tell me in person, I would have preferred to find out she was engaged by reading the newspaper."

"Patrick, she came and saw me too!" Teresa blurted out.

He stopped, looking slightly stunned by her revelation. "She came and saw _you_!? How does she even know about you? Oh. . . Scarlett probably called her right away and told her all about you. I don't even see why it matters, she's engaged to somebody else. I can date whoever I want now. I could have dated whoever I wanted when we got divorced. Why would she come and see you?"

"I have no idea," Teresa answered honestly. "Really, she didn't say much. She didn't even tell me to take care of you or warn me not to break your heart. It was strange and. . ."

She trailed off; not telling him what had happened after the visit was over.

"Teresa, there's something on your mind. I can tell."

"I'm thinking that maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore," Teresa admitted.

Patrick looked stunned this time. _"Why?"_

"I-I. . . I don't know."

"You don't have any good reason not to be my friend. In fact, we don't have any good reason not to be something more. . ."

Teresa backed away slightly. "There are plenty of good reasons _not _to be something more! Even though she's moved on, you are not over her! Not yet. Maybe you won't ever be over her and I do not want to be your rebound! I don't want to be _anybody's _rebound. I'll be your friend, if that is what you _really _want. But that's all."

Patrick nodded. "If that's what you really want."

"Yes. That's what I really want," Teresa answered.

"Okay."

Teresa released a deep breath. "You've had a long day. Maybe you should go home early and get some sleep. You are clearly not thinking straight."

"I have a better idea, how about we go and get an early dinner?" Patrick suggested.

"I'll buy you a popsicle," Teresa answered. "And if you still feel like dinner after you go home and take a nap, I will be more than willing to meet you."

"Don't distance yourself from me," Patrick said a little desperately. "We haven't even started yet and I don't quite feel like being by myself right now."

Teresa sighed. It was turning out to be very interesting, being friends with a man who could read her better than she knew herself. "There's a Tex-Mex restaurant about a mile from where I live. We could go there now, if you really want to."

"I'll pay," Patrick replied. "It's my turn, anyways."

They turned around and walked back to her apartment in silence. She followed him to his Citroen and he opened the passenger door for her.

"Talk to me," Patrick said as he put the car into drive. "Tell me what it is you do to pass the time."

"I have a community garden at my apartment," Teresa answered. "And I like to go to Children's Hospital to read to the kids. We started reading the first book in the _Boxcar Children _series last week. Then I'm with my father a lot of the time. We play Chess or cook together; he likes it when I read to him from the classics. Sometimes we go to the movie theater that only plays old movies and do double-features. I lead a dull life, really."

"It doesn't seem that dull of a life," Patrick said.

"It isn't exactly exciting though. It isn't the kind of life I would have had if I joined the police force in San Diego like I had been planning to before my dad inherited all that money."

"Do you resent it?"

"Having a lot of money comes with pros and with cons. But I am sure you know that better than anybody else. Don't you?"

"Of course."

Teresa hesitated for a second and then cleared her throat. "How about you meet me at the hospital tomorrow afternoon. It's my turn to visit and I'm sure it would be a good distraction from. . . well, everything."

"It depends on what's going on, but I would love to go with you if I can," Patrick answered.

They lingered over dinner and Teresa did her best to distract him from Angela's engagement. But she could tell just by looking at him that he wasn't really into it, that he was just going through the motions because he didn't want to be alone.

And she didn't want to leave him alone. He probably felt like he had lost something all over again, and she didn't want him to fall prey to any demons that might have gotten him through his previous losses.

It was getting dark when they got back to her apartment; Mrs. Smith was leaving with one of her many boyfriends just as they got back. She was dressed for a night of dancing, she waved at Teresa and winked as she got into the vintage Rolls Royce and drove off.

Teresa waved back and then turned to Patrick. "That was my neighbor," she explained.

"Are you good friends?" Patrick asked.

Teresa shrugged. "We talk. Do you want to come up to my apartment? I have ice cream for dessert. . ."

"I guess," Patrick answered. "I mean, I don't have anywhere else I need to be. Well, unless a case comes up. Which it might. I mean, murder doesn't sleep."

Teresa rolled her eyes and got her keys out from her purse. "Really, is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Maybe? Was it funny?"

She was quiet, refusing to indulge him even though he had had a hard day. "I hope you like coffee ice cream," she said instead.

"Isn't it a little too late for coffee ice cream?" Patrick asked. "You won't be up all night?"

"I always sleep well, especially since I've left the police academy," Teresa answered.

"I don't," Patrick said.

"Maybe you need a new line of work then," Teresa replied.

"I'm running out of options," he answered. "The psychic shtick is what I do best and I really have no desire to go back to school to learn a new profession. Besides, I don't think I'd like being confided to an office or a classroom all day. If I quit the CBI, that's it. I'm not doing anything."

"Aren't you a little young to retire?" Teresa asked as she let him into her apartment.

"If you have the money, does it matter?"

Teresa closed the door and kicked off her sandals, wiggling her cheerfully painted toes in the carpet. "What happens if you get bored?"

"I have ways to keep myself occupied. I can surf and I am sure there are some books that I haven't read yet. Also, I've wanted to improve my French cooking skills."

"You can cook French food?"

"Sure, how else was I going to impress the ladies after my divorce?"

Teresa rolled her eyes again. "Be serious."

"Okay, Angela hates to cook. So, I took different classes to learn how to do it so she wouldn't have to. One class I took featured a different ethnic dish each week."

"So you can cook _one _French dish then."

"I said I wanted to improve my French cooking skills," Patrick answered. "I never said that I was a French gourmet or Julia Childs or anything like that."

"Julia Childs, _really_?"

"Jacques Pépin then."

"Jacques Pépin? Really?" Teresa asked as she got the ice cream out of the freezer and started to scoop it into the sundae glasses she kept right next to the freezer.

"Why not? Don't you know who he is?"

Teresa laughed and held out his ice cream. "Sure, I watch PBS."

"Of course you do," Patrick answered.

She really wasn't like any girl he had ever met. Angela would have rather poked her eyes out with pins than spend hours watching cooking shows. She preferred Carrie Bradshaw over Martha Stewart.

But that was why he had loved her. He had wanted to take care of somebody with everything in him and she had given him the chance to do that.

Looking at Teresa, standing barefoot in floodlights and eating her dessert straight from the carton he thinks maybe he wants something different the second time around.

That was, if he could ever get over Angela's honey blonde hair and hazel eyes.

Teresa took another bite of ice cream before throwing her spoon in the sink. She stretched and sighed in relief, rolling her neck a few times. "Are you feeling better?"

Patrick smiled a little bit at her and then realized, yes, he was feeling slightly better. "A little," he answered.

"Good."

He wanted to say something about not going to drink himself to death, but he knew she wouldn't find it amusing. She would probably find it a bit offensive, given her father's own history with drinking to numb the pain.

"I'll be okay," he assured her. "I mean, lots of guys have gotten divorced and found out that their wives were remarrying. And they survived, right?"

Teresa nodded, still looking slightly concerned for his well-being. "Listen, if you need _anything_ don't hesitate to call me. I'll do the best I can to help you."

"I appreciate it."

They looked at each other for a little longer than they should have and then Patrick put his dish down on the island. "I really should get out of here. It's getting late."

Teresa nodded again. "Okay."

"Thanks for everything today," Patrick said. "Thank you for not letting me. . ."

He trailed off, letting the last part go unsaid.

"You're welcome," she said, not needing him to finish his thought. Somehow already knowing what he would say even without him saying it.

She showed him to the door and bid him goodnight, watching as he left her for the evening.

She was getting ready for bed when her house phone rang; she darted to her bedroom and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"I just wanted you to know that I got home safely," Patrick answered. "And that I'm okay. Well, as okay as I can be."

Teresa cleared her throat and smiled even though he couldn't see her. "Thank you. But I wasn't worried."

"Oh, you _weren't_?"

"Nope."

"Sure."

Teresa laughed. "If we're going to do this all night, I think I'm going to hang up on you Mr. Jane."

"Okay."

"_Stop it!" _Teresa answered, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she headed back to the bathroom.

"What are you doing right now?"

"Getting ready for bed," she replied. "What are you doing?"

"I'm about to finish reading my book," he answered. "I don't sleep very well these days and that coffee ice cream didn't help any."

"Sorry," Teresa said, squeezing some toothpaste on her toothbrush. "So, what are you reading?"

"_The History of Love_. It's a very good book; I'll lend it to you when I'm finished. If you'd like."

Teresa spit her toothpaste out. "I'd like that."

"Well, I can tell that you're busy. So, I'll let you go."

"Okay," Teresa replied, hesitating for a second as she took her toothbrush out of her mouth again. "Do you want to grab lunch tomorrow? I mean, if you have time. . ."

"Um, yeah, that would be nice."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight Patrick."

"See you tomorrow," Patrick echoed. "Goodnight."

She clicked off after he had and finished brushing her teeth. She splashed warm water on her face and then flicked the bathroom light off before padding into her bedroom and crawling into bed.

She turned on her TV and watched old black & white movies until she drifted off to sleep, completely exhausted from the day's events.

**TBC. . .**

**.  
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**Author's Note II:**

**Hope you'll leave a review and tell me what you think! More to come soon, I promise! I need to get chapter 8 written, I've been consumed by Cassandra/Jake from the Librarians of late. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 1/24/2015_**


	5. Red John

**Shout-Outs: NANNETTE, Chymom, WillySpooky, LouiseKurylo, DaboGirl, blueyedmentalistfan, and Jane Doe51**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 5**

Patrick hated these kinds of wake up calls. The ones in the middle of the night that woke him up from the little sleep he was getting. Looking at the body of the teenage girl sprawled out in the abandoned warehouse made the miniscule good feelings from the day before disappear as quickly as they had come.

"The vic is Jill Jensen. They think it was Red John," Grace Van Pelt said, coming up to him.

"Like the smiley face calling card wasn't a big enough hint," Patrick said dryly.

Van Pelt shrugged. "I hate Red John cases," she told him.

"I know. I know, but we're going to find him," Patrick told her. "He'll make a mistake eventually and when he does, we're going to catch him. Just have a little faith."

"Faith I have," Van Pelt answered. "But this guy is good. Not one agency has been able to catch him. You haven't been able to catch him and that's what you're good at, catching bad guys who can't be caught."

"I've worked on about _three _Red John cases since I started working for the CBI. You've worked on one. . . and with each case, we've gotten closer to catching him. It's just a matter of time until we do."

"Jane, Van Pelt. . . stop gossiping and do your job," Bosco said warily.

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Who died and left you in charge?"

"Hightower called and asked me to head up the investigation because her husband was working a late shift at the hospital," Bosco answered. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Patrick managed to smile. "Nope, no problem."

Bosco managed to smile too. "Good, now do your psychic thing."

He took a deep breath. "Okay. Well, we already know that Red John is the culprit and the victim is female."

"Obviously," Bosco said sarcastically. "Is there anything that our _untrained _eye wouldn't pick up on?"

"Um, she's most likely still a teenager," Patrick answered. "She was moonlighting as a prostitute, if her clothes are anything to go by and the fact that there's a hotel down the street from here."

Van Pelt blanched, looking at the blonde at her feet. "A _prostitute_?"

"Some guys like them young," Bosco answered, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Jane, do you think Red John hired her and then killed her after he had gotten what he wanted from her?"

"I don't think that they had sex," Patrick answered. "Everything's still in place, her makeup is immaculate. . . I think he lured her to the hotel as a potential client and killed her. If there's one thing we've learned about Red John it's that he has a perverse sense of justice."

Van Pelt looked sicker. "Do you think he killed her because she was a teen prostitute?"

"Most likely," Patrick answered honestly.

Van Pelt looked like she was going to throw up. She'd been with them for a year, but Patrick didn't think she would ever get over this part of the job. The dead bodies, the circumstances behind their deaths. . .

Bosco sighed wearily. "Okay, Jane and Cho will come over to the hotel with me and we'll question the staff there. Van Pelt, get Rigsby and go talk to her parents."

"Okay," Van Pelt said, turning away with a little of relief.

Patrick was happy not to be her in that moment. He didn't want to see the devastation in the Smith's eyes when they heard not only had their daughter died but that she was a teenage prostitute as well. It would be too much to handle, for everybody involved.

So, he followed Bosco and Cho to the hotel and went through the usual line of questioning while the staff gave them their answers.

Yes, Jill had been there. No, she wasn't a regular customer. No, she hadn't arrived with anybody and she hadn't left with anybody either. They couldn't give the room information out without a warrant it was the Hilton after all.

By the time they had finished questioning everybody, Patrick was ready to be done with the whole thing and disappear. But Bosco didn't let him instead he instructed him to go to his favorite diner and get some breakfast.

Teresa was there waiting for him, looking a little tired as she nursed a cup of coffee and rested her chin in her hand, her eyes closed.

Patrick looked at her from the doorway. This morning she wasn't Teresa Lisbon, the inexperienced sociality in designer label. This morning she was the Teresa Lisbon she had been before her father had inherited millions, if her worn police academy sweatshirt, threadbare jeans, red Converse sneakers and makeup less face were anything to go by.

As soon as he saw her sitting in the booth, he knew that Bosco had probably roused her out of bed and sent her to meet him. She opened her eyes and yawned, then smiled when she saw him.

Somehow he found himself walking to her and sliding in the seat across from her.

"Hi," she said sleepily.

"Hey," he answered back. "What are you doing here?"

"Sam called," Teresa answered, yawning again. "He said you were probably going to have a tough time today, thought I could cheer you up. Do you want some breakfast? Are you hungry?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you need to eat. You have a lot going on and it wouldn't be any good if you went and got yourself sick from not taking care of yourself," Teresa told him as she signaled for the waitress.

"I see you have a friend with you today," she said, recognizing Patrick as one of her regulars. "I never thought I would see you with a friend, never mind a pretty thing like her."

"She's just a friend, Betty," Patrick answered, twisting the wedding ring he still wore.

He looked at it for a second. He would have to take it off soon, it symbolized something that was truly dead and buried now.

Betty turned to Teresa. "Well, Patrick's _friend_, what would you like for breakfast?"

"Pancakes," she answered.

Betty turned to Patrick. "And I'm assuming it'll be the usual for you, _mister_."

"Um, yeah, scrambled eggs and Earl Gray tea."

"Coming right up," Betty said in a bored tone.

"Sam filled me in on the case a little bit; he said it was Red John."

"It is," Patrick told her.

She took a sip of her coffee. "Do you think you'll get him this time?"

"Maybe, but probably not. He's way too careful to be caught," Patrick answered. "He'll probably survive us all."

"Don't think like that," Teresa chided. "Where's your faith?"

"I lost it a while ago."

"You have to have some kind of faith," Teresa answered. "Or you wouldn't work in law enforcement. You have to have faith in the system. And in the people you work with, if you didn't they wouldn't be any good to you."

He was silent as he looked out the window at the gray morning.

She put her hand over his. "You have to have faith in me. Or you wouldn't be here right now."

"I didn't know that you would be here," Patrick replied.

"You wouldn't have agreed to be my friend," Teresa said. "You have to have faith in your friends that they'll be there for you not only during the good times but during the bad times too. I know you have faith in me. . ."

Patrick shook his head. "But the kind of faith you're talking about is the faith you hear about in church. The kind of faith that moves mountains, I lost that when God took my daughter away."

"Maybe He needed her more than you did," Teresa answered. "Maybe He knew that the CBI was going to need your help to catch Red John."

"It seems like a lot of work and heartache just to get me to catch a serial killer," Patrick said.

"Well, nobody ever said He was going to let you off easy."

"Do you have faith?" He asked. "In Him, I mean."

"Yes," Teresa answered earnestly.

"You're a good Catholic girl. And I'm the not-so-good Catholic boy who's strayed too far from his faith to be saved now."

Teresa was saved from replying by Betty's return, she put Patrick's drink down in front of him and refilled her coffee.

"How are you today?" She asked when they were alone again.

Patrick smiled at her. "As bad as this may sound, trying to find out who killed Jill Jensen has gotten my mind off my own troubles for a while. I want her parents to have answers. Don't worry about me, I'll be okay."

"Old habits. . ." Teresa answered trailing off; she picked up her cup of coffee. "So, does Bosco know about Angela?"

"Why do you think he called you?" Patrick told her. "Not only do I have to deal with my ex-wife's engagement, I have to try and solve my third Red John case. He certainly doesn't want to deal with me right now. You're honestly doing him a favor by agreeing to deal with me."

"That bad?"

"So I'm told."

Teresa smiled at him. "I hardly believe it."

"Well, you've never had to deal with me when I'm going a little insane."

She shook her head. "Believe me; I'm not going to let that happen."

**.**

"I have to go," Patrick told her when they had finished eating breakfast. "Thanks for coming out to see me so early. You didn't have to come."

Teresa smiled and found her keys. "It was no problem. Really."

"Well, I have to go. Duty calls and all that good stuff," he said.

She reached out and touched his hand. "It'll all be okay," she told him.

"I hope so."

Teresa hugged him then, she wrapped her arms around him and held onto him as tightly as she could. He fell into her embrace, stunned by how strong she was for such a petite woman. It lasted for a little longer than it should have; when she pulled away she looked a little embarrassed.

She fiddled with her keys and looked around, before meeting his eyes. "Well, I guess I'll see you later. I mean, we can still have lunch if you're not busy this afternoon."

Patrick swallowed, realizing he had seen Teresa Lisbon almost every day since they had met. The last time he had spent every single day with a girl, he had ended up marrying her. And he still wasn't ready to entertain thoughts like _that_.

He didn't think he would ever be.

But still. . . there was something about her presence in his life that calmed her. And he didn't think he wanted to give _that _up.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, we can still meet for lunch, if I'm not too busy with the case."

"I'll see you this afternoon then," Teresa told him. "Maybe."

It was his cue to leave, he took his keys out of his pocket and waved at her as he got into his car to go and try to catch some bad guys while he tried to forget the way this new lady in his life made him feel warm and safe.

It was almost like coming home and he hadn't found a place to call home in almost three-hundred-and-sixty-five days.

His mouth was dry and he dry swallowed, hard. He couldn't feel this way about her, it wasn't right. It wasn't fair, especially not to her. He came with a whole boatload of baggage and she had been trying to escape just _that _for a really long time.

His ringing cell phone pulled him out of his rumination. A quick glance at the caller ID said it was Bosco; he answered it, relieved for the distraction from his traitorous thoughts.

"Hello?"

"Jane, we may have a lead. The service that Jill Jensen was working for gave us the name of the man who hired her. Cho and I are going to interview him right now. Do you want to meet us there?"

Patrick cleared his throat. "Yes, I'll meet you there."

"Okay, I'll text you the address then," Bosco answered. "See you soon."

"I'll see you soon," Patrick echoed, clicking off so Bosco could text him the details right away.

He looked at himself in the rearview mirror, seeing only his eyes and shook his head as if to say _no _or talk himself down. But he would worry about it later, he couldn't let a beautiful pair of eyes and a sweet personality get in his way of solving a murder.

Jill Jensen deserved to be brought to justice.

And he was going to do that for her.

**TBC. . . **

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**It has been such a long, stressful week. My grandmother died on Monday night and we're in the middle of planning a memorial service and starting plans to remodel my dad and mom's bedroom because that's where she had been staying the last four months. Thankfully this chapter was already written or I wouldn't be posting this tonight. I hope you'll tell me what you thought, the casefic aspect has been amped up and Jane's struggle with his feelings for Lisbon is really starting now. Looking forward to your thoughts! **

**Love,**

**Holly, 1/30/2015_**


	6. Prayers, Perry Como and Pizza

**Shout-outs: , DSPallas, Guest, , LouiseKurylo, zats, Jane Doe51 and blueyedmentalistfan**

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you for all your kind words in support of my grandmother's death. I appreciate it.**

**Rated: T**

**.**

**Chapter 6**

Teresa went to church when she left Patrick. She wanted to pray for him, to light a candle for the girl who had been murdered in the wee small hours of the morning and to straighten out her tangled feelings for a man she hadn't even known for a week yet.

He said that he just wanted friendship and she had liked the sound of that, until she had started to spend more time with him. She wanted to be the one to pick up all the pieces and put him back together and to get him to stay because being a rebound really did _not _interest her in the slightest.

She swallowed hard and pushed the thought out of her mind. Because he didn't want that, so she was going to respect that and not entertain things that couldn't be. She'd already done it twice before, once with the much older Sam Bosco and another time with the FBI agent Marcus Pike, who had wanted her to decide between him and her father. It was time to put the girlish daydreaming aside and be the woman a man needed, not what she thought he wanted.

Teresa pulled into her church parking lot and locked her car, thankful that God wouldn't care about her casual attire as she made her way to the sanctuary. Her priest was there standing in the front of the church and talking to a pale looking teenage girl. He smiled when he saw her approaching them.

"Teresa, early morning I see," he said in way of greeting.

"Yes. . . a friend needed me," she answered. "I'm just here to pray this morning, no confessional or anything."

She couldn't talk to him even if she needed to. She couldn't let him see the hidden secrets of her heart today. It would make it more real to say it aloud. Besides, what would she say? That she was falling in love with a man who was practically still married to his ex-wife? That said ex-wife was marrying somebody else. . . it wasn't any of her business to tell. Even though the world already knew about some of the things Patrick had confided in her, thanks to _Us Weekly _and _People_.

"Go on," he said, interrupting her thoughts, his kind smile giving her a tiny sliver of peace.

She lit two candles, one for Jill and one for Patrick and then with trembling fingers and an even shakier heart, she knelt down and prayed for a number of things in quick succession. When she opened her eyes, she was all by herself.

She got up, not feeling any more peaceful than she had before she had first come into the church. She needed somebody to talk to, but she didn't have any girlfriends to chat with over a two-margarita lunch or a mother to pour or woes out to. And she couldn't trouble her father with problems that weren't even her own.

But Teresa was used to dealing with things on her own; she had been doing it for a long time. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, ready to try and brave the day and whatever else it would bring at her.

When she got home, she impulsively decided to stop at Mrs. Smith's apartment. She didn't know what had made her want to go over there, but when the older women opened the door dressed in a satin, lilac-colored robe and smiled at her, she suddenly felt like crying and not dealing with anything by herself.

"Teresa, darling, come on in!"

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Teresa asked anxiously.

"Of course not," she answered. "I was just about to eat some breakfast. Are you hungry?"

"I already ate," Teresa replied. "It was an early morning."

Mrs. Smith laughed and turned down the Perry Como album that seemed to constantly be playing on repeat. "I had an early morning too. Frank and I went to LA last night for one of the Turner Classic Movie film festivals, it didn't get over until late and then he. . . well, needless to say, I never got to bed."

"Didn't you go dancing with Frank the other night?" Teresa asked.

"No darling, that was Louis. Frank isn't much for dancing, but I love it. So, Louis takes me dancing once a week. The other six days are dedicated to Frank though," Mrs. Smith said. "Coffee?"

Teresa shook her head, she never turned down coffee, but she was shaking like a leaf, she didn't think she needed to add to her jitters. "I shouldn't."

"Chocolate milk then," Mrs. Smith answered. "Martha darling!"

Martha came out from the kitchen. "Mrs. Smith?"

"Would you be a gem and make a chocolate milk for Miss Lisbon?"

"Of course," Martha answered. "Will Miss Lisbon be joining you for breakfast as well?"

"Not this morning, no. She's just keeping me company," Mrs. Smith replied.

"Very well," Martha said, smiling at her boss and going back to the kitchen to mix up the chocolate milk like she had been told to.

"So, you had an early morning," Mrs. Smith said, pouring her coffee into a teacup and adding a splash of cream. "Did you not make it to bed last night either?"

Teresa blushed. "No! I mean, yes, I made it to bed last night. I was just woken up early."

"By the young man I saw you with the other day?" Mrs. Smith asked, raising a well-groomed, silver eyebrow. "I must say that he is quite delectable, isn't he?"

"Is he?" Teresa asked fervently. "I can't say that I've noticed."

"So, what is it that brought you to my doorstep so early this morning?"

"I don't know," Teresa lied. "I guess I didn't want to go back to my empty apartment. And I needed somebody to talk to; I haven't had anybody to talk to in a long time."

Mrs. Smith took a sip of coffee. "What's on your mind?"

Teresa sighed. "Everything."

"Well, that's a loaded statement if I ever did hear one. How can _everything_ possibly be on your mind? You're young and beautiful; you shouldn't be burdened with so many problems. But it seems like you need a pal, do you want to tell me about _everything _that's on your mind?"

"Yes," Teresa answered. "But I don't know how to."

Mrs. Smith smiled. "Well, we need to start with a good foundation. You have no reason to trust me or to tell me anything. You don't know anything about me except for the small details that you've probably observed, my name and the names of the men that I date. So, how about instead of you talking to me, I talk to _you_?"

Martha bustled out of the kitchen then with a silver tray, her chocolate milk was in a tall crystal glass. And Teresa realized that everything was an event with Mrs. Smith and her housekeeper. She found that she quite liked it.

"Yeah," Teresa answered after Martha had left. "I think I'd like to know more about you."

She spent the better part of the morning listening to Mrs. Smith describe a life that sounded like something out of a movie, about how she married her first husband, Bill when she was just a teenager and how they had been something like gypsies before finally settling down and starting a family later than most of their friends. She found out about she had met Frank shortly after Bill had died. She hadn't been looking to fall in love again because her first love had been completely magical and passionate.

Falling in love with Frank had happened completely by accident, he had been helping her out of the car one night and there had been a street performer playing _La Vie En Rose _on his saxophone when she had looked into his beautiful steel grey eyes and she had known. Not loving Frank Coleman just wasn't an option. Something in her had told her that she had loved him since before she had been born.

When she was finished, Martha was serving them lunch. Teresa vaguely remembered she was supposed to meet Patrick, but he hadn't called her to say it was okay to go and get him. So, she settled in and took her turn, pouring her heart out to Mrs. Smith like she would have if her mother had been alive.

**.**

Patrick looked at his watch and sighed. It was way past the proper time to tell Teresa that he couldn't go and meet her for lunch. The case had quickly taken over his life for the time being as they turned up another dead end with the service that Jill had been working for. The man who had hired her had done it for somebody he worked for, who in turn had done it for a friend.

And he wasn't giving up his friend's name for anything.

He made a cup of tea and hoped that Teresa would forgive him for not calling her and telling her that he couldn't make it for lunch. He tried not to feel relieved that he didn't have to see her again yet and try to make sense of his conflicting emotions for her.

"We knew this wouldn't be a slam dunk case," Bosco said, interrupting his thoughts as he poured himself a fifth cup of coffee, Patrick was relieved to see that it was at least decaf this time. "It is Red John, you know."

"I know," Patrick said.

"Except that isn't what you're thinking about, is it?"

Patrick smiled and shook his head. "I'm not going to talk about it, Bosco."

"Fine," Bosco answered. "But you do know that it's okay to let her in like _that_. You have nothing to lose."

Patrick shook his head and sighed. "I have _everything _to lose though," he said, leaving it at that because he _really_ didn't want to talk about it.

But Bosco didn't let it go because he was never good at dropping an issue. "You do know that nobody would judge you if you weren't just her friend."

"We're in the middle of a case," Patrick reminded him. "It isn't appropriate to talk about it right now."

Bosco frowned. "What makes this case so different from any of the other ones?" and then it dawned on him and he smiled. "Okay then, we won't talk about it. If it'll make you feel any better about it. But remember denial isn't a river in Egypt."

"Bosco. . ." Patrick said in exasperation.

"I have to go and meet Mandee for dinner," Bosco answered. "Try not to stay here too late; maybe a change of scenery will be good for you."

"I know what you're suggesting."

Bosco smirked. "I wasn't suggesting _anything_. You came up with _that _all by yourself. Have a goodnight _Paddy_."

"You too _Sammy_," Patrick replied, rolling his eyes as his partner left him alone for the night.

**.**

He was at home, lying on the floor, doing breathing exercises and listening to classical music, trying desperately to relax when his phone rang. He reached for it and pressed the receiver to his ear, not even bothering to sit up.

"Hello?"

"Hey Patrick, it's me."

The voice on the other end of the line made him sit up right away, like she could see him. "Teresa?"

"I got your home phone number from the Yellow Pages, is that alright?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course! Listen, I'm sorry that I didn't call you about lunch earlier. . . things got a lot busier than I thought they would be."

"It's okay," Teresa assured him. "I was kind of tied up too. Listen, I know its kind of late but do you want to meet for a late pizza? I'd kind of like to see you again today. . ."

Patrick's pulse tripped a little bit, she kind of wanted to see him again? It probably didn't match how much he wanted to see her again. He swallowed hard and shook his head, pushing the thought away as hard as he could.

"Yes," he answered instead, releasing a deep breath. "I mean, yes I would love to get something to eat with you tonight. I haven't eaten dinner yet."

There was another pause and then she released a deep breath. "Who looks out for you Patrick?"

"I look out for myself," Patrick replied.

"Not anymore," Teresa whispered before clearing her throat and suggested a pizza place.

It was one he knew well, him and the rest of the team would order their closed case pizza from the restaurant all the time. He fiddled with the undone buttons on his vest and nodded. "Sounds good. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"I'd like that," she answered; he could hear the smile in her voice.

"I'll be there soon," he promised, discarding his vest completely and reaching for his keys.

She was waiting for him on the porch, still dressed like she was in the morning, her face still void of any make up. She was humming a Billy Joel song and she looked young and beautiful and impossibly unreachable as he came towards her. His stomach flipped uncomfortably and he knew in that moment that even if he didn't say it aloud, he was in so much trouble.

"Thanks for agreeing to see me," Teresa said, smiling at him.

"I couldn't say no even if I didn't want to," Patrick told her.

Her whole face lit up at this statement. "I hope that's a good thing," she answered.

"I think it might be a very dangerous thing," Patrick replied.

"Oh. Well, come on let's go and get some dinner. I'm starving," Teresa told him as she hopped off the porch and walked a little bit ahead of him.

Patrick followed her. "What's with you tonight?" he asked.

Teresa frowned and turned around to look at him, folding her arms across her chest. "You tell me, you're the world-renowned psychic."

"_Ex_-psychic," Patrick reminded her. "Nobody cares about me anymore."

Teresa's frown was replaced with another one of her heart melting smiles. "That's where you're wrong my friend. There are people who care about you."

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?" Teresa answered. "Come on; let's not talk about it anymore. We'll talk about it again when you're ready to. In the meantime, let's go and get some pizza."

"What are you talking about?" Patrick asked as she stopped by his car, waiting for him to open the passenger door for her.

"You'll know what I'm talking about when you don't have to ask that question again," Teresa answered, leaving his mind to wander to all the possibilities of what it could be she wanted to discuss with him.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note II:**

**Sorry about the delay in posting. This week was **_**crazy**_**, what with the memorial service for my grandmother, a long church meeting, the Mentalist episode, my sister having surgery on Thursday and redecorating the master bedroom I forgot all about this until I was in bed last night and it was too late to do anything about it. I would have posted it this afternoon, but we went to the city to have lunch and meet my sister's boyfriend's best friend and his wife. Then we went to every bookstore downtown. So, despite the day late posting in this, I hope you will tell me what you thought and depending on what happens this coming week, I will try and be punctual with posting on Friday night!**

**Until Next Time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 2/7/2015_  
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	7. Dead Ends & the Boxcar Children Stories

**Shout-Outs: Guest, LouiseKurylo, and Jane Doe51**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Rated: T**

**.**

**Chapter 7**

"You look like you had a long night," Bosco said as Patrick came into the bullpen the next morning.

"Women are more trouble than they're worth," Patrick answered.

"Trouble in paradise?" Bosco asked.

"There is _no _paradise," Patrick replied, rolling his eyes. "We're just friends. At least, I think we're still just friends. I don't know. . . for the first time in my life I cannot read a situation and it's driving me _crazy_. _She's_ driving me crazy."

Bosco grinned. "Oh, I am loving this! Were you like this when you were dating Angela?"

"I am _not _dating Teresa Lisbon!" Patrick said flatly.

"You keep telling yourself that."

"Do you have any other leads on the Jill Jensen case?" Patrick asked, changing the subject abruptly. "Anything I can follow up on?"

"Nope. We're probably going to arrest the employee who hired her though, for obstruction of justice. But other than that, we've got nothing. He won again."

"It's too soon to give up," Patrick told him. "We can't. . . Jill's parents need to know who killed her. Jill's friends. . . I hate him, you know that? I _hate _Red John and if it's the last thing I do, I want to find him and see him burn in hell for everything he's done."

"Get in line," Bosco said dryly. "I would love nothing more than to see him tarred and feathered or strung up by his toes from the nearest tree. You're still young and even though I know that you've already been through a lot, sometimes you still need to be reminded good things happen to bad people. Life is not ideal Patrick Jane. You don't always catch the bad guy. You don't always get the fairytale ending."

"If you know that to be true then _why_ do you keep pushing me towards Teresa Lisbon?" Patrick asked.

"Because people need somebody to go through life with, to face all the bad stuff together. You don't really want to spend the rest of your life alone. Do you?"

_No, _Patrick thought to himself.

"I don't want to get hurt again. It's better this way, its better alone," he said instead.

Bosco laughed. "I know you don't really believe that for one second. But I'll let you think that way for now anyways; arguing with you isn't really getting me anywhere. Come on, let's go and see if we can finally get that guy to talk. It's worth one more try, isn't it?"

**.**

With an impending prison sentence staring him in the face, William Miller was more willing to talk to them.

"You have to promise me that if I tell you _anything_, there will be some means of protection though. I mean, my boss is a dangerous guy. He's hurt people for a lot less than talking to the police about him."

"There's nothing to be afraid of, we're not going to let anything happen to you," Bosco promised. "Now talk to us William. Your boss had you solicit sex from a minor; you had to have known that was a criminal offence."

"The thing is I _didn't_ know she was a minor!" William answered. "He didn't tell me anything about her when he had me hire her for the evening. All he gave me was her name. Okay? If I had known, I would have _never_. . . listened; I don't want a record, okay? I'll tell you whatever is that you want to know to help you out. No deals, no ultimatums although I wouldn't mind if I had some kind of protection for it."

"Don't worry, we'll make sure you're protected," Bosco assured him. "Now, start talking William."

**.**

"Sure, I had William hire a kid prostitute for me," Timothy Carter answered in a low, almost feminine voice. He leaned back in his chair. "It isn't something exactly I'd do myself, what would my wife think?"

"So, you are admitting to having relations with Jill Jensen then?" Bosco asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction, like a buddy would over a few beers after work.

Timothy coughed. "What do you mean by _relations_?"

"Did you have _sex _with her?" Bosco answered.

"Is this off the record?" Timothy asked.

"Mr. Carter, a girl that you hired to have sex with is now dead. I suggest you stop playing games with us and answer the question," Bosco said, his ire rising slightly.

"_Once," _Timothy answered. "I only had sex with her _once_. After that, I never saw her again. But I might have mentioned her to another friend of mine. . ."

Bosco looked like he was going to punch the man sitting in front of him, so Patrick put his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.

"Are you going to give me the name of this friend?" Bosco asked, glaring at Patrick.

"Why would I do that? It doesn't do any good to piss off people in high places Agent Bosco; I would just stop while you were ahead in chasing down Red John. He's going to win in the end, you know."

"You don't care that he's going to get away with it at your expense then?" Bosco asked, angry enough to spit. "At _William's_ expense?"

"I can't say that I do," Timothy answered.

"What about your wife and kids expense?" Patrick interjected. "You have to care about them? If you take the fall for Red John, you know that you'll be going to jail. Their livelihood will disappear with you."

"My wife is very resourceful, she won't have any problems without me," Timothy replied, with a menacing kind of chuckle. "And besides, whose saying I'm going to go to jail?"

"You slept with a minor," Bosco said. "That alone is a criminal offence."

"She knew exactly what she was doing; I don't see why I should get into trouble for that. It isn't like I drugged her and forced myself on her," Timothy retorted, sneering at them. "Besides, Red John has _very _loyal friends. You can arrest me and put me into jail, throw away the key if you want to. But I won't be there for very long, we never are. But you already know that."

"If that's the case then just give us a name," Bosco said. "Think about Jill Jensen's family, her friends. They deserve closure, don't they?"

Timothy shook his head. "Do you want the truth? The truth is I killed her. I slept with her and then I murdered her afterwards."

"Where did you murder her? It wasn't in the hotel room unless you played somebody to scrub it clean afterwards, and even then something would have turned up when forensics did a sweep of the place."

Timothy clammed up after that, not even demanding his lawyer and a frustrated Bosco booked him, distributing him to a police officer for delivery to the local jail until the rest of the details could be ironed out. He had barely been there for an hour when they got the call that he had died, just like all the other friends and associates of Red John had died before him.

Bosco swore for a while while Rigsby, Van Pelt and Patrick watched and Hightower tried to calm him down before finally giving up and calling Mandee to come pick him up for work. After he had gone, she told the rest of them to go home for the day.

Patrick watched as Van Pelt and Rigsby snuck off together and decided that he couldn't face his apartment all alone for twelve hours or longer.

As much as he didn't want to, he found himself at her apartment again. She was outside, planting herbs in pots.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

"Nope," Teresa answered, smiling at him. "I was just about to clean myself up and go to the hospital to visit the kids. Do you want to come with me?"

"I'd like that a lot actually," Patrick replied.

"Okay, well, I'll run in and get changed. You can come with me, if you'd like. I mean, you can come in and wait for me while I get ready."

"If you don't mind," Patrick said.

"Of course not! Come on in. Do you like iced tea, you can have a glass while you wait for me," Teresa said as she let him into her house and moved around the kitchen, getting a couple of glasses out and filling them with ice.

Patrick shrugged. "I guess I could drink a glass of iced tea while I wait."

She poured him a glass and held it out to him before pouring herself one. "I'll be right back," she said.

"Okay," Patrick answered, taking a sip of his drink. He sat down on her couch and looked at the stack of books on her coffee table. They were all children's books and from _the Boxcar Children _series.

He smiled at the sudden image of her browsing through the children's books at Barnes & Noble, looking for just the right story to read to her group of kids at the hospital but gravitating towards the stories she had loved as a little girl.

Except some of them like _The Mystery on the Ice _and _the Mystery of the Purple Pool _were newer titles and not the ones he had read as a little boy camping underneath the stars in between states and carnival runs.

Teresa came back out from her bedroom wearing a skirt, white t-shirt and a denim jacket with white Converse sneakers. Her hair was in a loose braid and she was applying Bonnie Bell Chap Stick.

"Okay, I'm ready. How about you?"

"Ready," Patrick answered, putting his glass down on the coaster. "Which _Boxcar Children_ book are you reading to them?"

"We just started _the Chocolate Sundae Mystery_," Teresa replied, grinning at him. "Patrick Jane, are you offering to carry my books for me?"

"Don't make it into something more than what it really is," Patrick said, smiling at her inspite of himself as he picked the slim novel up from the top of the pile. "I'm just a boy, carrying a girl's books for her. No ulterior motives included. Unless of course, you have a hankering for a Coke after you're done at the hospital."

"Are you paying?" Teresa asked, locking the door behind them.

"Why not?" Patrick replied.

**.**

He watched her sit in a rocking chair with two kids on her lap and the rest of them all gathered at her feet, reading to them and doing all the voices as best she could, including that of the youngest Alden child's.

"_Please, Jessie, just a small cone_," she said in a tinny voice, so obviously trying to imitate a little boy. _"I promise it won't ruin my appetite."_

When she was finished, she looked at him and smiled. "Would you like to read the next chapter?" she asked.

Patrick swallowed, he hadn't read aloud since the night before Charlotte had died. He was sure that it wasn't something you would ever really lose the ability to do, but he was certain that he'd stumble over the passages in his rustiness and disappoint her. But he knew if he refused her, she would be disappointed by that too.

"Of course I'll read the next chapter," he answered, taking the book from her.

**.**

"We didn't catch Red John," Patrick told her as they drove to a place to get ice cream afterwards.

"So, there is no justice for Jill Jensen then," Teresa said.

Patrick sighed. "We thought we found her killer but he killed himself as soon as he got to jail. They all kill themselves; you have to wonder if this man is even worth protecting. They all do his bidding, and then take the fall for it. But I'm not sure Timothy Carter was even worth protecting. He didn't even care that he slept with a minor because she knew what she was doing. . ."

Teresa put her hand over his, looking at him in the setting sun and shaking her head. "Don't think about it right now. You're going to get him one day, I promise."

"Because you have faith in me?"

"Yes," Teresa answered.

He looked at her, straight in the eyes and saw all the faith that he didn't have in himself there and a hint of something else that he couldn't quite define, but he knew very well. He looked away; still not ready to talk about _that_.

"Thanks for trying to help me today," he said instead. "You should see Bosco, he's going crazy."

"I'm sure Mandee's helping him out just fine," Teresa answered. "She's always been good at keeping him out of his own head. A cheeseburger and beer, and he'll be as good as new tomorrow. And you will be to, if I have anything to do with it."

Patrick finally smiled at her. "Thank you. But. . ."

She shook her head. "Don't say it, you aren't past saving or helping. Not if I have anything to do with it."

He didn't know what to say to that. He didn't know if there was anything to say to it, because he appreciated the sentiment and in the back of his mind, he really hoped that she could save him.

Because he really wanted to be saved.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note: **

**A few things, I am still going to post stories as long as the fans will read them. So, even though the show **_**is **_**ending on Wednesday, I am going to write a few more stories if my readers will stick with me. Second of all, I am so FREAKING excited for White Orchids, it's almost making up for the show ending. Third of all, I hope you guys all enjoyed this chapter. Things are going to start picking up, I promise! Lastly, I hope you all have a very VERY Happy Valentine's Day. I love you all!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 2/13/2015_**


	8. Second Chances

**Shout-Outs: MartyMc, Jade, Guest, LouiseKurylo, Jane Doe51, and Guest**

**Author's Note:**

**We had a snow day today, we have **_**actual **_**snow on the ground and I promised yesterday on Twitter that if there were a snow day where I live then I would post chapter 8. So, here we are.**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 8**

"How would you like to go and see _the Marriage of Figaro_?" Patrick suggested a week later. "I got tickets for tomorrow night's show."

"I don't know. . ." Teresa hedged. "The last time we went to the opera it didn't go so well."

"All the more reason to go," Patrick answered. "You need to give it a second chance, I got tickets for a theater a couple of hours away from Sacramento so there is no way that we will run into anybody that I know."

Teresa stirred her strawberry-lemonade with her straw thoughtfully. "Well. . . I guess it could be okay," she finally said.

"Great! So, I'll pick you up around three. We'll get there around five, don't get dressed though. I used to do shows at a hotel there and they said we could use a couple of the rooms to get ready in. The opera isn't until eight, so we'll have a few hours to eat afterwards. I already made reservations for dinner too."

"How did you know I would even say yes?"

"I could just tell you'd say yes," Patrick answered. "I got to go, my lunch hour is up. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," Teresa replied. "Have a good rest of your day."

"You too!" Patrick said, getting his wallet out to pay for their lunches.

**.**

"It took me a while to convince Hightower to give me the rest of the day off," Patrick said as they drove along the highway the next day. "That is until I told her that I was going out with you. She let me go right away as long as I promised to be back into work first thing tomorrow morning."

Teresa laughed. "I can't believe she gave you the rest of the afternoon off because of _me_."

"Don't underestimate your power over the way their thinking," Patrick replied.

"Well, as long as you don't use me as an excuse every time you want to get out of working."

"I swear this is the first time I have tried to get out of work since we've met," Patrick assured her. "But it wouldn't matter if it was my tenth or eleventh time, they'd still give me the time off if I were going with you."

Teresa wondered about his statement but didn't ask him to explain what he meant. She didn't want to hear the reason why they would give him the time off so easily. "Do you mind if I put some music on?" she asked instead.

"Sure," Patrick answered. "Put on whatever you feel like listening to."

She fiddled around with the radio station until she found one where they could sing along to almost every song that the DJ played. Singing old Carpentersand Bob Dylan songs was so much easier than having to think about what he had meant by his boss letting him off work because of her.

Certain songs brought up old stories that they traded like secrets at a sleepover. It gave them both insight into the people they were before they had met, the little kids with skinned knees and pipe dreams and wads of Double Bubble tucked between their teeth and cheeks. She could see him clearly sitting beside her, the little boy that he used to be. It made the small sparks of love she was feeling for him to be fanned and turn into little flames.

She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the slow burning attraction towards him.

They made it to the hotel in record time and separated to go get ready in two different hotel rooms. When they were finished, they met again in the hotel lobby. He looked her over, taking in the strapless red dress that fell to her knees and matching shoes, he smiled.

"You look _lovely_," Patrick told her, his breath slightly catching in his throat.

"Thank you," Teresa replied, returning his smile with a wide grin of her own. "You don't look too bad yourself."

"We should go," he said after a beat. "I made reservations for the nicest restaurant in town; it would be a shame to miss them."

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you were trying to lure me into your bed," Teresa teased, slightly surprised by her own boldness.

"Don't worry, I would _never_ seduce you over a meal," Patrick returned, offering her his hand. "That would be too sophomoric."

Teresa pursed her subtle red painted lips together and didn't point out that he had said he wouldn't seduce her at all. There was already enough fuel on the flames, she didn't need to encourage him anymore or add to her daydreams of them together. So, she was quiet as he led her outside to the front entrance of the hotel where a limo was waiting for them.

"Are you sure you aren't trying to seduce me?" Teresa asked coyly.

"If I were going to seduce you, you wouldn't know it until after it had happened," Patrick answered. "I am just giving you a taste of my life before the CBI. Although, I am sure there are a number of limos and living the highlife in your life at this moment."

"You _know_ that I am a simple girl with simple tastes," Teresa replied as she slid into the limo.

"You can take the girl out of Chicago, but you can't take Chicago out of the girl?" Patrick asked as he followed her.

"Something like that," Teresa said as their driver for the night closed the door behind them. "But I do find that I enjoy some of the finer things in life, like a night at the opera and a pretty dress. I just prefer deep dish pizza to escargot."

"Who doesn't?" Patrick quipped. "I promise my dear, there will be no escargot tonight just steak and a baked potato."

"If it's the most expensive place to eat in town, it better be one good piece of steak!" Teresa answered, laughing a little bit.

"I've eaten there plenty of times before, I can assure you that it's the best steak you will ever experience. They even tell you the name of the cow the steak comes from."

"Okay, that might just be a tad bit of too much information," Teresa told him. "I prefer to not think about my food's life before I got it."

"I can request that they don't tell you then," Patrick replied.

"_Please," _she said, smiling at him.

**.**

Patrick was right; _the Marriage of Figaro _was a much more pleasant experience than _Turandot _had been. Patrick was right, there weren't any meddling "friends" during the intermission and she found without the distraction of thinking she was going to lose him, she could enjoy the opera the way it was supposed to be enjoyed.

When it was over, they were brought back to the hotel where they got back into street clothes and got ready for the trip back to Sacramento even though it was late.

He dropped her off at her apartment in the wee small hours of the morning and she thanked him for the wonderful time that he had given her. He walked her to her apartment door, making sure that she got in safely before leaving her for the night. There was no kisses goodnight or asking if he would stay, but she was sure that maybe one day there would be.

So, Teresa let him go, watching him leave her with a tiny ache in her heart. She hated seeing him go off by himself, she hated that he wouldn't let her love him. Even though she didn't want to be a rebound, she wanted him to want her the same way she wanted him. She wanted forever.

If she was going to get forever, she knew waiting for the right time would be no chore. With that thought, she locked up for the night and got ready for bed just to catch only a few hours of sleep.

**.**

A week later, Patrick was staring at another dead body with the Red John smiley face on the wall above it. Another blonde, another teenager. Their life cut short way too soon.

"Can you believe he would be this cocky to kill so soon after the last one?" Van Pelt asked. "I think we're closer to finding him this time Jane. I really do."

Patrick looked at the young girl and tried to smile. "I hope you're right."

"I have a good feeling," Van Pelt said.

Patrick had a feeling too, but it was far from a good one. Even if they did catch him this time, he wouldn't go down without a fight. Without taking a few casualties with him, he fleetingly wanted to stop his pursuit of the serial killer, put another team on it and keep the people he cared about safe.

But he knew that Bosco and Hightower wouldn't hear of it, they had been pursuing Red John for too long to throw in the towel when it looked like they were so close to catching him. He sighed and turned away from the corpse, feeling slightly nauseous.

They were too close this time, this murder, so close to the other one was a not so subtle message to the Serious Crimes Unit. Maybe he was going to let them catch him, but there would be hell to pay because of it.

He ran away before Bosco could come and find him to ask him what he thought about the crime scene, the victim. It _was _Red John, not a copycat and she had been killed in the same way the rest of them had been killed. This time there was the added bonus of a bloody pedicure on her perfectly formed toes, he could see a cheery glittery blue nail polish peeking through the drying red, reminding him of how much this young lady was going to miss out in life.

His stomach heaved and for the first time since he had worked his first crime scene, he found some bushes to throw up in. Chasing Red John was becoming to be too much; he couldn't wait for it to finally be over.

**.**

At the end of the work day, Teresa was waiting for him outside the CBI building. She was starting to anticipate his needs even before he knew he would need something. She opened her arms up to him and he stepped into her embrace.

"Sam told me that it was a bad day," she said. "So, I came to take you to the drive-in. We can pretend we're two high schoolers without a care in the world and indulge in French fries and Coke milkshakes."

Patrick pulled away and released a deep breath. "I'd like that."

He could tell that she knew distractions wouldn't help him that much, but he was thankful she was trying.

He was beginning to think that he couldn't live without her. And it scared him, because when he left Sacramento for good, he didn't want to leave with strings that would pull him back to the state capital.

But looking at the beautiful brunette in the seat beside him, her hair in two French braids and looking like she stepped out of a hiking catalog, he knew it was too late. There were some massively strong strings already. And no matter what happened, he wouldn't be able to leave her but he couldn't stay either.

Patrick had a thought, a huge scary thought that he wasn't able to face completely while he was still wearing Angela's wedding ring and while Red John was still looming in the shadows. But it was enough to put a pin in for another day, when he was a little stronger to face it and think about the implications of what the thought meant.

In the meantime, he would still pretend they were still _just _friends and that he hadn't started to feel his heart spark every single time that he looked at her or when she looked at him with the glimmer of the same feelings in her brilliant green eyes. He would pretend that all his father's favorite old songs _didn't _suddenly make sense whenever he was looking at her.

And he wouldn't let her know anything had changed. Not until he was sure he could.

**TBC. . .**

.

**Author's Note II:**

**I hope you guys all enjoyed this chapter, we're getting closer to a conclusion. Only four more chapters, I think. Unless Chapter 12 demands I follow up with 13, which I doubt will happen because it is pretty much all wrapped up and Chapter 12 is dealing with loose ends. Anyways, tell me what you thought! I am looking forward to your thoughts about this chapter. **

**Love,**

**Holly, 2/16/2015_**


	9. Shootings and Earl Grey Kisses

**Shout-outs: I Dream of Scotty, Jade, Jane Doe51, Chymom, Guest, Mayzee Sssssy, and LouiseKurylo**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 9**

"Aren't they gorgeous?" Mrs. Smith cooed as she picked up one of Myrna Loy's puppies and placed him in Teresa's lap. "This one is all yours, if you'd like."

Teresa nodded, scratching the puppy she was holding behind his ears. "I would _love _to take one of the puppies," she answered.

"Good, now that we have _that _settled, how is Patrick?" Mrs. Smith asked, sitting down next to her.

"I haven't seen him since I took him to the drive-through a couple of days ago. He's busy with a case."

"The Red John one? I saw something about it on the news last night." Mrs. Smith shook her head. "What a _horrible _man, I hope they find him and string him up by his toes. Disgusting, the things he does to those girls."

"Yes," Teresa agreed, sighing deeply. "How's Frank?"

"Frank is doing well, thank you for asking. We're going out tonight, Tony Bennett is giving a concert in LA and we have front row seats."

Teresa smiled. "Ah, I thought there was something different about the record you were playing today. It isn't Perry Como."

Mrs. Smith smiled in return. "No. You should call Patrick; see how things are going with him. I can tell that your mind isn't here today. It's with him, wherever he is."

Teresa blushed. "A little bit."

Mrs. Smith nodded knowingly. "It's fine darling, I know how you feel about him. It's only natural that you're thinking about him right now, that you're worried about him. Don't you dare protest; it's perfectly natural to be worried about the man you love. Especially when he's working in law enforcement. Now come on, you can help me get ready for my date this evening."

**.**

Patrick had a headache. All the clues had led to another dead end, it didn't seem like they were going to catch him _this _time around either. He would go free, able to kill again when the mood struck. He was almost sure of it. It scared him; he didn't think he could face another blonde teenager, dead way before her time.

"Here you go," Van Pelt said, breaking into his thoughts with a bottle of water, tea and two aspirin. "You have a headache, you need some painkillers."

Patrick smiled at her despite the welling pain in his temples. "Thanks."

"I've been praying every day that we'll catch him, but I think I was wrong. We're not going to catch him this time. Are we?"

"Don't give up hope," Patrick answered, tossing the aspirin in his mouth and unscrewing the cap off the bottle of water. He downed half of it and sighed. "There's still a little time before we have to shelve it. Keep praying, I'll enlist some reinforcements."

"I didn't think you believed in praying," Van Pelt said, looking a little surprised.

"I don't, but it helps you and that's the only thing that's important," Patrick replied. "Now go on, the work day is almost over. You should go home and get some rest."

"You too," Van Pelt said. "You're not going to be any good to _us_ if you're not well-rested."

"I'll be fine," Patrick tried to assure her but his mind was with Teresa, it had been a couple days since he'd seen her and he missed her more than he cared to admit. She would bring some balance to this craziness going on. He sighed. "You know what; maybe I will get out of here for a little bit too."

"Good," Van Pelt answered. "I'll see you later."

**.**

He went to Teresa's apartment, but she didn't answer her door when he knocked. He felt a slight sense of panic rise up in his chest as all the possibilities of what could have happened raced through his mind. Relief came when he heard her laughter from three doors down. He followed the sound of her voice and found her standing with an elegantly dressed older couple, a puppy in her arms.

"There you are!" He said walking towards her and stopping short when he was just close enough to touch her.

"Patrick!" She exclaimed her face lighting up at the sight of him.

His heart gave a great thump and he felt a million pounds lighter than before. "Teresa. Teresa. There you are. . . I was worried. . ."

She smiled. "There's nothing to worry about, I'm right here. These are my friends, Mrs. Smith and her boyfriend, Frank. They were just about to leave for a Tony Bennett concert."

Mrs. Smith smiled at him. "I've heard so much about you Patrick. It's so nice to _finally _meet you. But like Teresa said, we really must be going. Maybe we can all get together for dinner sometime soon."

"We'll plan for it," Teresa answered, smiling at her friend. "You two have a good time tonight. Behave yourselves!"

"You too dearest one," Mrs. Smith replied, taking Frank's hand.

"So, who's this little guy?" Patrick asked when they were alone.

"This is Asta," Teresa told him.

"After Nick and Nora Charles's dog in the Thin Man movies?"

"Exactly!" Teresa said. "Do you want to hold him?"

"I'd love that," Patrick answered, taking him from her.

"Do you want dinner?" Teresa asked as they walked back to her apartment. "I'm not really in a position to leave my apartment until I can set it up for a dog. But I can cook for you; I have stuff for Mexican food."

"I'd like that, I've been living on pizza and Chinese food for the last few days," Patrick answered.

**.**

"How are things going with the case?" Teresa asked as she marinated chicken in lime, honey and freshly shredded garlic.

"They're not," Patrick answered, shaking his head. "He's really good, he might outlive us all."

"That's a scary thought."

Patrick sighed. "I need you to do something for me. . ."

Teresa looked at him. _"Anything."_

"Pray. There's this girl that I work with and I'm afraid this case is going to wreck her, I'm afraid that chasing Red John is going to wreck her. She had so much faith going into this _one _and I looked at her today and I saw it fading. She'll lose herself if we don't catch him this time."

"I'll pray," Teresa promised, brushing her grill pan with olive oil and placing the chicken strips on it.

A little while later, they were sitting at her table and eating dinner. They were lingering over the last of the sour cream and tortilla chips when his cell phone rang; he glanced at the caller ID and answered it after the second ring when he saw Bosco was calling him.

"Hello Bosco," he said. "What? I can't understand what you're saying. I'll be right there, okay?"

"Is everything okay?" Teresa asked anxiously.

"Bosco. . . I need to go check on him, he's probably still at the office," Patrick answered, getting up and grabbing his suit coat. "He wasn't making any sense at all."

"Well, I'll go with you. . . just in case you need help," Teresa said, getting her purse and scooping up Asta.

She followed him outside and didn't object when he started the car up and broke every speed limit to get to the CBI.

"Do you think there's something wrong?" Teresa asked as he double-parked and ripped out of the car, she ran after him.

"Yes!" Patrick answered. "Bosco's usually the first one to leave; he likes to be home with Mandee and the kids. There has to be something wrong, he wouldn't have called me from the CBI. . . not unless he had a lead in the case or there was something wrong, and as of this afternoon we had _no _leads in the case."

Teresa looked as sick as he felt. "You don't think. . ."

"Yes," Patrick replied. "Yes, I do."

"_Oh God." _She breathed.

He flung the doors to the stairwell open and took them three at a time, while she tried to keep up with him. They reached the floor the Serious Crimes Unit was on and he rushed to Bosco's office as fast as he could. "Call 911!" he called over his shoulder, frantically.

She came to the office and saw Patrick kneeling over Bosco's bloody body. She rushed to Bosco's desk and picked up the phone that was already off the hook, after pressing the reset button, she dialed 911 like he had requested, she rattled off the address and their emergency while Patrick tried to stave off the blood.

"Who did this to you?" He demanded. "_Who _did this to you Sam!?"

"Rebecca," Sam gurgled, struggling for breath. "Rebecca. . . she said it was because Red John told her to do it. . . I don't know where she is right now. She left after she shot me."

"You're going to be okay," Patrick told him. "You're going to be okay, you have to be. Think about Mandee. . . Mandee _needs_ you Sam."

"Mandee," Bosco repeated, opening his eyes. "She needs me."

"Call Mandee!" Patrick said. "Tell her to meet us at the hospital."

**.**

The rest of the night went by in a blur; Teresa took Mandee's car and went to stay with their kids while she waited for news about her husband at the hospital.

She calmed their fears and they fell asleep on the couch, watching the Disney Channel while she waited for somebody to call her about Bosco's condition. The call never came; instead there was a knock on the door and Patrick standing on the concrete porch. She opened the door expecting the worse.

Patrick was covered in Bosco's blood and Mandee's tears and mascara, and he looked exhausted. She waited with anxiously bated breath for the news that he was dead, but he didn't say anything. He expelled a deep breath and fell into her arms, spent from all the emotions of the day.

"It's okay," Teresa whispered, finding her voice, finding his curls with her fingers. "Everything's going to be okay. I'm right here. . . I'm right here Patrick."

"Just hold me," he whispered back. _"Please _just hold me. I need to feel real again."

She nodded, pulling him closer, letting him nuzzle her hair with his nose, not saying anything when he started to trail little kisses up her neck or when he found her mouth and kissed her like he was a dying man. Something told her that if they weren't careful, things would escalate quickly between them and even though she could hardly think with his Earl Grey kisses, she knew that she didn't want to give herself to him in the Bosco's entryway. It would be too quick, not special enough if it happened that way.

She eased herself away with him, not taking her arms away from him because she was a little shaky and she wanted him to know that she was still there for him like he had wanted.

"Is he okay?" Teresa asked, her pulse still racing from the kiss they had shared.

"He's going to make it," Patrick answered. "He just got out of surgery a little bit ago and they said that he's going to make it, the recovery process is going to take a while though. He might never get to go back to police work. Hightower, Rigsby and Van Pelt are out looking for Rebecca right now. But I don't want them to find her; I know what will happen when they do. We'll bring her in for questioning and she won't tell us one thing. When we try and put her in jail, she'll just kill herself. They all do, they would rather die than betray _him_."

"Shhhh," Teresa said, framing his cheeks with her hands and kissing him all over his face, to comfort him. "Shhhh, it's going to be okay Patrick, everything's going to be okay. You're going to find him. You're going to find him soon and he'll be sorry he ever messed with any of you."

"When I find him, when I've seen him punished for everything he's ever done I am going to leave Sacramento, Teresa. I can't stay anymore. I can't see anybody else I care about get hurt. I don't want to chase monsters anymore, a few more years doing this and I don't think I'll know who I am anymore."

Teresa nodded, knowing there was more to it. That Angela was somewhere in the back of his mind but he was too respectful to what had just happened to bring it up. "I know."

"But I've found. . ." Patrick trailed off and swallowed hard, looking at her like he couldn't bear to lose her. "I've found that I don't want to let you go either, that I do not want to leave you behind. I want to ask you if you'd come with me but I don't know how."

"You just did," Teresa whispered. "Are you ready to talk about it?"

Patrick shook his head. "I don't know. Not yet, ask me again when we've taken care of Red John. I think I might be able to answer you then."

Teresa nodded. "I'll be waiting. Now, how about some tea? I'm sure Mandee won't mind if I make you some."

"I should go home and get cleaned up," Patrick answered, looking down at his blood-stained shirt, touching the black streaks on his shoulder.

"I'm sure Sam has a sweatshirt lying around here somewhere," Teresa said, nudging him slightly. "I don't want you to be by yourself tonight. _Stay_."

It was all the convincing he needed, he let her go and followed her into the kitchen, let her make him a cup of tea and stayed with her for the rest of the night, just holding her hand and letting her comfort him.

There were still nightmares to face. There was still a serial killer to catch but with her by his side, he knew that he would be able to face anything. And for a little bit, she chased the darkness away.

For a little bit, he was able to believe that everything was going to be okay.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note: **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I had a blast writing it, especially **_**the end**_**. So, I hope you'll tell me what you think. And is anybody else on cloud 9 after Wednesday's finale? I could not have asked for more where this finale was concerned, I am so happy these two people I love like my family are happy.**

**Anyways, there are only three more chapters left until I close this story. But no worries, I am cooking up a new story for all of you. I just have four ideas to choose from and I don't know exactly which one I want to write first. **

**Until Next Time!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 2/20/2015_**


	10. Red John 20

**Shout-Outs: Rosepeony, MJ2387, Sssssy, Jade, Jane Doe51, MartyMc and LouiseKurylo for their reviews on the last chapter**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**. **

**Chapter 10**

"Do you think you could smuggle a Starbucks coffee in for me?" Bosco asked Patrick. "Preferably something that is _loaded _with caffeine, caramel drizzle and whipped cream?"

"I think that coffee and all that stuff are considered contraband until they're sure your heart is in working order," Patrick answered.

"I'm _dying_ here!" Bosco said.

"At least you're not really _dead_," Patrick reminded him. "Tell you what; if you do everything you're supposed to then I will buy you the _largest _coffee and doughnut that Marie's has to offer when you're all clear."

Bosco huffed in aggravation. "_Fine!_ But I'm _not _happy about it."

"Be as unhappy as you want to be about it," Patrick answered. "But I'm still not smuggling in coffee, not until the doctor says that it's okay."

"Are there any leads on the Red John case? Or on Rebecca?" Bosco asked, clearly impatient by being confined to the hospital bed when he was so used to being out in the action.

Patrick shook his head. "They found Rebecca at her apartment, naturally she refused to answer any of our questions and as soon as we booked her. . ."

"I see," Bosco said. "And there isn't anything in her apartment that would lead us to Red John _at all_? She seems to have known the man personally."

"Van Pelt found a diary; she talks a lot about a man named Tom in it. But Tom could be any number of men. Without a description or a last name, it doesn't do us a bit of good."

"I know," Bosco replied wearily.

"This can't be doing you any good for you," Patrick said. "Let's talk about something else."

"Mandee and I can't thank you or Teresa enough for taking care of the kids while we've been here."

"It was nothing, Teresa enjoys being around them. It gives her something to do when she isn't doing her volunteer work," Patrick answered.

"And being around the kids hasn't bothered you at all?"

"No," Patrick told him, shaking his head. "I like it. . . sometimes when I'm thinking about it, I wish things were different. But really it's been a good experience, being with your kids."

"Have you and Teresa. . ."

"No. . . I mean, we kissed. . . if _that's _what you're talking about but that's all. I'm still not ready to talk about it. . ." Patrick trailed off and shrugged helplessly.

Bosco laughed at how lost Patrick looked, wincing slightly when his stitches pulled. "I never thought I'd live to see the day where the _great _Patrick Jane couldn't formulate a proper thought!"

"Yeah, well, you almost _didn't_!" Patrick reminded him. "Why did you stay behind that late anyways?"

Bosco shifted, trying to get more comfortable. "I wanted to see if I could get any more work done on the case. I thought Rebecca had left for the evening. . . don't blame yourself. I know you are. It wasn't your fault, it wasn't my fault either. Nobody knew what Rebecca truly was. And before you argue that you _should _have known because that's what you're paid to do, remember you are _only _human. Now go, I'm ready for my nap. If you find out _anything_, please come back and talk to me."

"I will," Patrick promised, smiling at him.

**.**

"We think we have a lead on who Tom is," Van Pelt said as he came into the bullpen.

Patrick frowned. "So easily?"

"Yeah, she mentioned meeting her lover, Tom, in Napa Valley in one of her journal entries. I know this might be a stretch but remember when we worked that case down in Napa and we ran into that creepy sheriff, _Thomas _McAllister? Maybe that's who the Tom is. . ."

"It is a stretch," Patrick agreed. "But you should mention it to Hightower just the same; see what she says about it. It might be worth looking into it."

Van Pelt nodded and got up from her desk. "Oh, how is Bosco doing?"

"He hates being confined to a bed, I think he's going a little bit crazy, lying in bed all day and watching ESPN. On the other hand, he and Mandee are stronger than they've ever been. Funny how things like this can bring you closer to somebody."

Van Pelt looked at Rigsby. "Yeah. . ." she agreed wistfully.

Patrick knew just by looking at them that things had progressed between them over the past couple of weeks, even more than they had progressed between him and Teresa. He smiled knowingly at her and winked. "Your secret is safe with me," he promised.

Van Pelt looked a little embarrassed and then she smiled at him sheepishly. "Thanks."

A little while later, they were all loading up into a SUV to make a trek to Napa Valley to pay a visit to Sheriff Thomas McAllister. Patrick felt a tightening in his gut and for the first time since they had picked up this case, he was _certain _they were close to closing the Red John case for once and for all.

As Hightower pulled onto the highway that would lead them to Napa, he found himself pulling a page out of Teresa's book and saying a prayer to a God he had stopped believing in the day Angela had walked out the door. He knew somewhere in Sacramento, Teresa was doing the same thing.

McAllister didn't seem surprised to see them. It raised immediately red flag with Patrick and he felt a thrill of excitement shoot all the way through him. He knew just by looking at him that they had _finally _found their man.

This was Red John, the man who had caused so much turmoil all over the state of California. If he could prove he was the serial killer, his reign of terror would finally come to an end. He took a deep breath, his heart beating quickly in anticipation while Hightower fired off a series of questions. His time to interrogate him was coming; he wasn't going to let him off easy.

Not at all.

Thomas McAllister had just met his worst nightmare.

He had just met his match.

He wasn't going to let him know it though.

**.**

"Don't worry about him," Mandee said as Teresa paced around the Bosco's kitchen. "You know he's fine, he called you when they got back to the office. You know as well as I do that these things take time. I doubt this man will be easy to crack. He doesn't want to be caught after all. He won't make it easy for them."

"You're right," Teresa agreed.

"Okay, I have to go and see Sam now. There's money on the counter for pizza and make sure the kids do all of their homework before they turn on the television. Okay?"

"Of course," Teresa assured her as she followed Mandee to the door. "Now go and see Sam, I'll hold down the fort here."

"One more thing, you probably already know this, but if Patrick shows up then make sure you comfort him. He's going to need it regardless of what happened today."

Teresa nodded. "I know my mom used to do the same thing for my dad when he had a hard day at the fire station. I know what to do."

Mandee hugged her. "You're such a good girl Teresa; I don't know what any of us would have done without you this past week. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Teresa replied, hugging her back. "Now go _on_, Sam's waiting for you! You don't want to keep him waiting longer than you have to."

"Right! Goodbye Teresa, I'll see you later."

Teresa closed the door behind her and locked it and then she went to sit by the phone, waiting for another call from Patrick while she prayed and helped the Bosco kids with their homework. When they were finished, she sent them to the living room to watch TV and ordered a pizza for their dinner.

Around ten o'clock, he still hadn't called. Teresa twisted her cross necklace in her hands and told the kids to brush their teeth and put their pajamas on. While they were doing that, Mandee came home and updated her on Bosco. Everything was going well; he would probably make a full recovery.

She was happy for them but she was ready to escape the Bosco house and go find Patrick. Not knowing what was going on was killing her. It was like Mandee could read her thoughts because she released her and told her to call the second she heard from him.

Teresa almost went to the CBI office but changed her mind at the last second and went back to her apartment. She got her pitcher of iced coffee out of the fridge when she got home and poured herself a glass.

It was going to be a long night.

**.**

Patrick had a tension headache. Questioning McAllister was taking even longer than any of them had expected. It had been hours and no matter what they did, he wasn't caving. He hadn't even admitted to knowing Rebecca even though there had been something in his eyes when Rigsby had dropped the name in an earlier interrogation session.

"We're going to have to let him go," Hightower said as she came out of the interrogation room. "He's not cracking."

"Come on Hightower, you _know _it's him!" Patrick answered, raking his hands through his hair in frustration.

"No I don't!" Hightower replied. "There isn't a _shred _of evidence against him except for a couple of names in a crazy woman's diary. Tom could be anybody; I'm not going by your _instinct_. Not with something as big as this! We could be holding an innocent man while the real killer is still on the loose!"

"His body language is _screaming _that he's Red John!" Patrick retorted. "He's not even protesting that he's _not _Red John!"

"You're tired and frustrated," Hightower said. "I get that, go home to your girlfriend and get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

"I _will not _feel better in the morning! I'll probably feel worse knowing we had him right in the palm of our hand and that we let him go!" Patrick told her. "I'm going in there and I'm going to make him talk!"

"Patrick Jane you better not do one single thing that will get this whole case thrown right out of court!" Hightower said sternly as she followed him to the interrogation room door.

"Oh please, that only happened _once_!" Patrick scoffed. "I'm not stupid enough to let it happen again! Just give me one more chance at him and if I can't get him to talk then I'll let the whole thing go. I promise!"

Hightower pulled out her little notebook and shoved it in his hand. "I want that in _writing_."

"Fine," Patrick answered, jotting down his promise and signing it with a flourish. "There, are you happy?"

"I'm holding you to your word," was all Hightower said as she stepped aside and let him go into the room.

"Really?" McAllister asked as he came into the room. "You aren't tired of this game yet, Mr. Jane?"

"Oh no," Patrick answered, taking his jacket off and rolling up his sleeve. "No, we're only just beginning."

"You have literally no evidence that I'm Red John," McAllister said. "Or are you going by the _famous _Patrick Jane instinct? If that's the case, I'm afraid you are completely screwed. Instinct in police work might get you a handful of closed cases, but it never holds up in a court of law. Now, since you have nothing to hold me on, I suggest you let me go. I would hate for things to get messy for you."

Patrick shook his head. "No. We're not going to let you go. We could hold you on obstruction of justice, since you're _not _answering any of our questions."

McAllister placed his hands on the table and folded them. "I have nothing to say."

"Well, this little game that you're playing is over," Patrick told him. "I don't care if I have any evidence against you; I know that you're Red John! I can tell just by looking at you, your whole demeanor is one of somebody who thinks that they're getting away with something."

"You'll never be able to prove it's me," McAllister taunted, his eyes narrowing. "Just give it up now, stop chasing serial killers and move on with that little brunette. I would hate for something to happen to her."

Patrick was on his feet in a second, dangerously close to his face. "Listen to me, you _monster_, if you so much as _look _in Teresa's direction, I will make you sorry that you ever breathed!"

McAllister smirked. "How is threatening me going to help your cause?"

Patrick didn't answer, he stormed out of the interrogation room and into the neighboring one where Hightower had been watching the whole thing play out. "Did you get that?"

"It doesn't make him Red John just because he threatened your girlfriend. . ." Hightower trailed off when she saw the look on his face. "Right. . . he could have worded it differently—"

"He might as well of admitted that he's Red John!" Patrick answered.

"You threatened him," Hightower reminded him. "Even if we did book him, it isn't going to look good!"

But Patrick was already on the elevator, leaving no choice but for Hightower to deal with Thomas McAllister by herself.

**.**

He ignored his trembling hands as he banged on Teresa's door, his heart was beating wildly out of his chest and he couldn't ignore the fear clawing at him that maybe McAllister had made good on his threat and sent one of his minions to do his dirty work. He knocked on the door again and started to shout her name. He was dangerously close to getting the police called on him, but he didn't care.

After a moment, the door opened and Teresa was peering out at him. She looked as relieved as he felt as she flung open the door.

"Thank God," Patrick breathed. "I thought. . ."

She pulled him into her arms before he could finish his thought. He buried his face in her neck and breathed her in.

"Thank God," he repeated over and over again. "I thought something had happened to you! I don't know what I would have done if I had lost you!"

Teresa pulled away and frowned. "Why did you think you had lost me?"

"Because McAllister. . ." Patrick trailed off and shook his head, not finishing his thought.

"I'm okay," Teresa whispered, sliding her fingers through his hair and leaning in to give him a kiss to quell his fears.

He kissed her back, savoring her nearness, how she was warm and flesh and bone underneath his fingertips. It was real. His heart skipped a beat and he pulled away to look at her, her green eyes wide in the lights on either side of her door.

"Let's talk about it," he whispered.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**We're close to the end! Two more chapters and we're going to say goodbye to this Teresa and Patrick for a little while, but I have one more story in this Alternate Universe planned. I can't give Nick & Nora up quite yet. But I'm placating my muse by writing an extreme AU right now. . . no details yet, but I'm working on the first chapter. I hope you'll tell me what you think of this chapter! And wherever you are, stay warm while this arctic freeze wraps us up in her icy arms. **

**Lots of love,**

**Holly, 2/24/2015_**

**P.S**

**If you haven't yet and you're looking for something else to read, check out my two other stories **_**Minelli Finds Out **_**and **_**Into The Dark & Wonderful Unknown**_**. Well, if you want to. . . or if you have the time! **


	11. Closed Cases & Endings

**Shout-outs: Jade, OneWriterGirl97, Jane Doe51 and blueyedmentalistfan**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

**Chapter 11**

Across town, at the CBI, Hightower was still trying her hardest to wrangle a confession from Thomas McAllister. Even though she couldn't really hold him on anything, she was too afraid to let him loose on the world again. Somewhere deep inside of her, she knew Patrick Jane was right. This was the man they had been hunting for years.

"You should get some rest," McAllister said when she came in to talk to him again. "You're looking tired Agent Hightower."

She shook her head and took a sip of her freshly brewed coffee. "One of us is going to break eventually Sheriff McAllister and it sure won't be me. So, why don't you save yourself the trouble? Tell me who and what you really are?"

McAllister shook his head this time. "There's nothing to tell."

"You see, I don't believe you. I mean, I would like to. You're one of my kind and I would hate to think that one of my kind is _dirty_. But I'm not a little girl, McAllister. I know that sometimes there are dirty cops. That serial killers are the last person you would expect them to be. Like the deacon at your church, the next door neighbor you converse with when you're checking the mail. Or even a supposed upstanding sheriff with a cute little wife and kids and a couple of grandchildren. Just tell me the truth, confess and it will make you feel better."

"What? Are you a priest who will absolve me of all my sins if I confess them to you?" McAllister asked. "If I tell you that I am guilty, it won't help me any. It'll be like signing my own death sentence. It'll be a ticket straight to hell. No, I'm not going to tell you anything."

"I'm not going to let you hurt anymore girls," Hightower said, standing up. "I'm assuming you're going to want an attorney?"

"Am I going to need one?" McAllister asked, looking at her seriously.

"Yes," Hightower answered. "I think you are."

**.**

They weren't talking.

Not really.

There wasn't much to say except to accept the obvious. That there had been something between them since the moment they had met and he couldn't ignore it anymore.

Teresa stopped kissing him and licked her lips. "Isn't there something that you wanted to tell me?"

"Just that you're one of the _most _beautiful girls I've ever met," Patrick answered, pushing his fingers through her hair. "And that I love you. I love you more than I thought I could love anybody again."

Teresa smiled. "I love you too," she answered. "I have ever since the first day I met you, I just couldn't admit it. I didn't want to scare you away, having you as my friend was better than not having you at all."

"I was terrified of loving you," Patrick replied. "I was hurt so terribly the first time around, I didn't want to face it again. I couldn't bring myself to face it again; I just didn't count on you being so wonderful. Everybody else saw it better than I did and it's my job to see things that other people can't see."

Teresa's laughter was like liquid sunshine to his weary soul. Somehow, lying here in her arms on her couch, he knew that everything was going to be okay. She chased the monsters away, she chased away the shadows. He sighed and closed his eyes, contented to be with her and forget for a little while.

When they were both drifting off to sleep, she invited him to her room just to sleep. Telling him that he needed to be well rested if he wanted to continue working the case, he took her hand and let her lead him to her bedroom, stopping quickly so she could scoop Asta up and bring him with them.

She pulled him down beside her without getting changed; without going under the covers and his last thought was as sleep finally found him that he could spend the rest of his life like this.

The next morning, he woke up to the sound of his phone ringing and the realization that he had slept the whole night without waking up once.

"Patrick," Teresa murmured in his ear. "Patrick, your phone. It's ringing."

He sat up, reached in his pocket and flipped it open. "Hello? Yeah, I'm just waking up. . . I can be there in twenty minutes. Okay, I'll see you soon."

Teresa was looking at him with sleepy green eyes, looking a little disappointed. "You have to go, don't you?"

"Duty calls," Patrick replied, leaning down and giving her a long kiss on the lips. "But I'll be back as soon as possible. Promise me that you'll stay safe today."

"I'll go stay with my dad for the afternoon," Teresa answered, tangling her fingers through his hair and kissing him back, reveling in the realization that she could kiss him whenever she wanted to. "Don't worry about me, I'll be okay."

"I'm still going to worry," Patrick said as he slid off the bed and she got up to follow him to the door, to make him some tea and kiss him goodbye.

When he was safely gone, she gathered up her clothes and bath stuff then clipped a leash on Asta, so she could go and spend the day with her father like she had promised Patrick she would.

It wasn't until she was showering when what had happened with him began to sink in. Not only had they spent the night together, he had kissed her again. He had told her he _loved _her, that he loved her more than he thought he'd love anybody again. A thrill of excitement shot through her whole body and she celebrated love in its newness as she squeezed some shampoo into her hand and lathered it up, remembering that at the same time there was a sort of somberness to their situation. It had come at the heels of a handful of tragedies.

Teresa took a deep breath and whispered a prayer for the whole Serious Crimes Unit, she knew today they would be facing their hardest task yet and they would need all the help they could get, even from a higher power.

When her shower was over, she dressed quickly and combed through her dark locks then joined her father for breakfast, where he offered up more prayers for the team before they began to eat.

**.**

"He confessed to everything," Hightower said as Patrick got off the elevator.

Patrick frowned. "What? _Why?_ He wasn't budging yesterday, what changed between now and then?"

"We did some digging, found out about a girl he's having an affair with. We threatened to tell his wife about the affair and bring the girl in for questioning if he didn't cooperate with us. He sang like a bird after that."

Patrick's frown deepened. "This is all so confusing; the persona that Thomas McAllister has created for himself doesn't seem like the type that would cave just because you threatened him."

"Seems the man cares about something after all," Hightower answered.

"Mmmh. . ." Patrick replied feeling slightly tortured by this bit of information.

It was all too fast, all too easy. He couldn't help thinking that something was going to go wrong down the road. Maybe his lawyer would say they tricked him into a confession, that he had said what they wanted to hear because they had backed him into a corner. The possibilities were endless, were sickening. There were chances that McAllister could get off scot-free because they hadn't handled it properly.

"I can read your thoughts loud and clear, Mr. Jane," Hightower said, pressing her lips together. "Don't judge me when you yourself have used unconventional means to close cases, all the times we've had to do paperwork because of you. All the times we've had to go around you hypnotizing a suspect. . . we've all done things we're not proud of. We'll make the charges stick."

"And if we don't?" Patrick asked.

"Do you really think he'd be cocky enough to kill again even after he was let off for murder?"

"Yes. Yes, I do," Patrick answered. "We're dealing with a psychopath here, there is _no _logic to what they do or why they do it. If he gets off, he _will_ kill again. It probably won't be for a few years but eventually he'll get the itch to do it again."

"We'll know who he is this time though," Hightower countered. "He won't get away with it. If I have anything to do it, he won't get away with it _this _time. Have a little faith, Patrick."

"I'm trying," Patrick said ruefully. "But it's so hard; I haven't had faith in a very long time. I don't know if I can ever have it again in the way that I used to."

Hightower shook her head. "You're different ever since she came into your life. She's changed you Patrick, for the better. I think the faith you lost is slowly coming back to you, whether you know it or not. Whether you like it or not. Now come on, let's go close this Red John case for once and for all."

**.**

It was far from over; there would be a trial to get through. The public wanted to see the man who called himself Red John get retribution, to see closure for all the girls who had tragically lost their lives.

After he had been toted away to maximum security prison, Hightower let everybody go for the day, saying she would fill the paperwork out later. They needed a chance to decompress and unwind before they completed the Red John saga once and for all.

Patrick went to see Bosco. There would be plenty of time to see Teresa later, to talk to her about plans for a future, to kiss her mouth and revel in the realization that he had found somebody again.

Even though the dark clouds gathering promised rain, he could see the world in vivid color for the first time in three years. He felt lighter than he had in years. Life, he felt, was suddenly starting over for him and he couldn't wait for it to begin.

**.**

"You told her, didn't you?" Bosco asked as soon as Patrick had entered his den. "There isn't any more denying it. You look more peaceful than the last time I saw you."

"Yes," Patrick answered, nodding and smiling a little bit. "I told her. . ."

"I know that isn't why you came to talk to me though," Bosco said, muting the television. "I was just watching CNN. You got him! Good for you, I hope we can make the charges stick."

"We?" Patrick asked.

"I might not get to go back to work, but I will fight tooth and nail to help make sure he gets what he deserves," Bosco replied. "He ruined so many people's lives, he probably ended my career. I would _love _to see him ended!"

"I'm afraid that he's going to get off if we're not too careful," Patrick confessed. "He's manipulative and conniving. He _could _do it; he could get away with everything if he wanted to. And I know he's going to want to."

"Well, I guess you guys are just going to have to find a way to make it stick then," Bosco said. "I know if anybody can do it, it's you. You are one of the _best _investigators that I know!"

"Yeah, I like you too," Patrick replied, smiling at him.

Bosco rolled his eyes. "I appreciate the sentiment."

Patrick sighed. "I guess I better get going now. You still need to rest; I just wanted you to know we arrested him. I should have known it would be all over the news by now."

"Thank you for stopping by, I'm glad you came," Bosco said, smiling at him.

"You're welcome," Patrick answered. "I'll see you later, Bosco."

**.**

Later that night, he went back to Teresa's apartment. When she opened the door, she smiled at him and he gathered her up into his arms. He didn't say anything; there would be time to say things later. He just wanted to hold her like this forever.

When she stood on tip-toe to kiss him, he reciprocated, weaving his fingers through her hair and clasping her waist with his other arm. They walked together into her house and she closed the door behind them, feeling for the locks with her free hand. He heard them slide into place and then allowed her to bring him to her bedroom.

There she was the first person to love him fully and completely for the first time in years.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**One more chapter left in this story. I hope you guys will stick around for the ending and in the meantime, please review! **


	12. Happy Endings

**Shout-Outs: lolaughoutloud123, Sssssy, MartyMc, Jade, Guest, Jane Doe51, LouiseKurylo and blueyedmentalistfan**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**. **

**Chapter 12**

_One Year Later_

It was big news.

Sheriff Thomas McAllister had been charged with more than several counts of murder, there would be no chance of an appeal. He would pay for his crimes in the form of a needle in his vein, it wouldn't bring back any of the people who had lost their lives but at least there was some sort of closure for the people who had loved and lost them.

Patrick smiled to himself as he turned the page in the newspaper, it was a job well-done, if he did say so himself.

He stopped at the marriage section as he paged through the paper, the faces of Angela and her new husband were smiling up at him. He traced his ex-wife's new name and found that he was _truly _happy for her. She didn't look tired anymore and the look of sorrow and shadow of death was gone from her face. She was radiant again, luminous. The girl he had known and loved once upon a time ago.

He paused for a moment and silently thanked Teresa's God for bringing Angela her new husband to her, something he probably wouldn't have been able to manage eighteen months ago when he was still clinging to rebuilding a life with her, to starting a new family just the two of them.

Teresa had changed all that though. She had helped him realize a new dream, helped him let go of a past he had been clinging to for far too long. And with her touch, with her kiss, with her love she had made brought him back to life in all the ways that Angela was alive now.

In the hours before she had invited him to her bed and a little bit after Red John, he had finally been able to take his ring off.

It was safely stored in her jewelry box, resting among her mother and grandmother's favorite jewelry pieces. The ones she only wore on special occasions. He would never take it back though, in a few short days he was going to replace it with a silver band that would match the engagement ring he had given to her _exactly_ six months after the day had first met.

"Last day?" Bosco asked, coming into the break room, interjecting into his thoughts.

He had recovered completely after the shooting. Mandee had put her foot down and changed his diet completely and started him on an exercise regime, he was healthier than he had ever been and they were talking about making him director of the CBI, replacing the old one who had been working for Red John's Blake Society the whole entire time.

"We closed the Red John case," Patrick answered. "I always said I would leave after I closed this case for you."

"Thirty-one is a little young to retire," Bosco said. "Are you sure I can't change your mind and get you to stay?"

Patrick shook his head. "Nope. I'm done, Teresa and I are getting married on Friday then we're going on our honeymoon. . . a _long _trip to Europe. After that, we are moving to a small beach town where crime _always _sleeps."

"And what are you going to do all day?" Bosco asked. "Surf and watch reruns of _CSI: Miami _on AMC?"

"I just might," Patrick answered.

Bosco released a deep breath. "I know that once you've made your mind up about something, hell will freeze over before you change it. Is it too early to get a little sentimental and tell you that I am going to miss you? Things just won't be the same around here without you."

"We'll keep in touch," Patrick promised. "I'm only moving a few hours away, it isn't like I'm going to Australia or anything."

"You _better _keep in touch!" Bosco said, slapping him on the back.

"_This _coming from the man who couldn't stand me when I first came to the CBI," Patrick answered, laughing as he ducked to avoid another friendly slap.

"And you _better _take care of Teresa," Bosco added.

"I'm going to, 'til death do us part," Patrick answered, grinning.

"Save it for Saturday!" Bosco teased, walloping him on the back again. "Don't forget your bachelor party tomorrow night."

"_No _strippers," Patrick reminded him.

"Naturally," Bosco said. "Don't worry, I've vetoed the strippers and the all you can eat challenges. There is only G-rated entertainment planned for the evening. You can even bring your deck of cards and dazzle us with tricks we've already seen if you'd like."

"Ha, ha. . . _very _funny!" Patrick retorted, his face lighting up when he saw Teresa step off the elevator. "I have places to be now; I will see you tomorrow night."

"Goodbye," Bosco answered, stopping him before he walked away and giving him a brotherly hug. "I _am_ going to miss working with you every day. If you ever change your mind. . . there will be a place for you here."

"I know," Patrick said. "Thank you."

**.**

Teresa took a deep breath as Mrs. Smith adjusted her veil.

"You look beautiful," she said.

"I _feel _beautiful," Teresa admitted. "I can't believe I'm actually marrying him, it's like a beautiful dream, except I don't want anybody to pinch me because I don't want to wake up."

"Well, let me assure you that this _is _real life!" Mrs. Smith answered, wrapping her up in her arms and embracing her.

Teresa closed her eyes and breathed in the lilac and _Chanel_, smells that had become comforting in the past year. "Look out for my father," she requested.

"Of course!" Mrs. Smith replied, pulling back and looking for him. "It's time for you to spread your wings darling. Go find your own life; we'll all be okay without you. Your father is stronger than he has been in ages, you know that. And I'll be here to make sure it stays that way. And you're only moving a few hours away, not halfway across the world. You won't be a stranger."

Teresa shook her head. _"Never."_

"I'm expecting you to invite Frank and me for a visit when you get back," Mrs. Smith told her. "For a _week_."

"Of course!"

"They're ready for you," Mr. Lisbon said, as he peeked his head in the door. He smiled when he saw her standing in the center of the room. "You look just like your mother did when we got married. You're beautiful, honey."

"Really?" Teresa asked.

"Yes," he replied, coming to her and hugging her. "Your mother would be _so _proud!"

"I hope so," Teresa said.

"The woman you are, the woman that you've always been. . . it is exactly what she wanted for you when you were a little girl. Of course she would be proud of you! And she would approve of Patrick; he is the one she prayed for from the day we found out we were having a baby girl."

"I wish she could be here today," Teresa admitted.

"I know, I do too," Mr. Lisbon answered, touching the cross necklace that Teresa had inherited from her mother. "But she _is _here, in spirit. In our hearts, I know you believe this as much as I do."

Teresa nodded. "I do, with all of my heart."

"Come," Mr. Lisbon said. "You don't want to keep him waiting."

"No," Teresa answered, smiling and willing the tears away because today wasn't a day for _what ifs_, today was the happiest day of her life. "No, I don't want to keep him waiting."

**.**

The vows went by quickly, before Teresa knew what was happening she was _Mrs. _Jane and she was sharing her first kiss with Patrick as husband and wife. Her heart was beating with anticipation for the rest of their lives as they were pronounced husband and wife.

There were pictures to be taken, she smiled and posed as the camera went off, the flash causing her to see spots. She blinked a few times, trying to chase them away before the next set of pictures were taken.

The photographer finished taking the posed pictures and they went to their reception. The band was playing their song, the one they had danced to at Frank and Mrs. Smith's own wedding reception. He held her close and whispered the lyrics in her ear; she smiled into his neck and curled her fingers in his hair.

She didn't start processing they were really married until after the wedding was over and they were on their own, on their way to a hotel room. She felt a thrill of excitement run through her, almost dizzying her with the anticipation of being somebody's _wife_.

"You've been awfully quiet," Patrick said, breaking into her thoughts. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm just thinking," Teresa answered. "I'm just thinking about how ridiculously happy I am to be with you right now, like this. . . _husband and wife_."

He covered her hand with his, smiling at her. "I am so happy too. You know I never thought I would get _this_ again. It wasn't something I thought I wanted again."

"You told me," Teresa whispered. "I'm glad you picked me."

Patrick shook his head. "No. No, I didn't pick you Teresa. You, you picked me. I don't know why you picked me; you could have anybody you wanted in the whole entire world."

"Too late," Teresa answered. "Besides, I didn't want anybody else in the world. I wanted _you_!"

"Mmmh," Patrick said. "Well, selfishly, I'm glad that you didn't want anybody else."

"The second I had met you, you ruined me for all the other men," Teresa told him. "You were the one I wanted from moment I laid my eyes on you."

Patrick smiled. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"It wasn't that long of a wait," Teresa assured him. "A few weeks are nothing, not now. . . not when we have forever to be together. Don't dwell on the past anymore."

"No," Patrick agreed, shaking his head and taking her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "No more dwelling on the past."

They got to the hotel they were staying in for the night and checked in. Teresa's heart was beating in anticipation for what was going to come next, their joining together as husband and wife.

He kissed her outside of their hotel room and then unlocked the door, sweeping her up in his arms to carry her over the threshold. He put the _do not disturb _sign on the handle before shutting it behind them.

"I can hear your heart," he whispered as he laid her out on the bed.

Teresa put his hand over her left breast and smiled. "My heart belongs to you," she told him.

"And my heart belongs to you, _Mrs. Jane_," he told her.

She pulled him down on top of her then and kissed him, clasping her arms tightly around his neck.

It was the sweetest feeling in the world to know that she had a lifetime of _this _to look forward to. His hands moved to the zipper of her dress and she let herself stop thinking about everything else except for being in the moment with him as they took turns undressing each other.

For a little while, it felt like they were the only two people in the whole entire world and everything was brighter.

When it was over, he wrapped his arms around her and peppered her with kisses, reaffirming his love for her. She smiled into his shoulder and repeated his words back to him over and over again, neither of them wanted to sleep because reality was so much better than their dreams.

**_The End_**

.

Author's Note:

**The end of another story for me but I have another one that I am **_**so **_**excited to share with you. It is my first (and possibly last) **_**major **_**AU, I should have it up next Friday. If you're curious about what it is then go and google **_**the Magic of Ordinary Days**_** from Hallmark Hall of Fame****after you tell me your thoughts about this last chapter. I know it is incredibly sappy but I couldn't help myself.**

**And thank you for taking this journey with me!**

**Love,**

**Holly, 3/6/2015_**

**P.S**

**The title for this chapter comes from "Happy Endings" from **_**the Artist, **_**it was composed by the **INCREDIBLE** Ludovic Bource. A favorite piece of mine even if I am yet to see the movie. **


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